


The Road To Hel Is Paved With Misunderstandings

by misreall



Series: Loki And Nora's Infinity Stone Playlist [3]
Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-08-31 19:40:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 35
Words: 102,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8591122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall
Summary: Loki and Nora learn that being in love is wonderful, but it doesn't pay the rent, eliminate war crime charges, or make much of a difference to all of those people who really want to kill you.





	1. Just this morning, you were unhinged. You were like some desperate howling demon. You frightened me. Do it again.

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you for the always wonderful Caffiend for taking over the joyless beta process for me.
> 
> Please note, this story takes place immediately after the end of If You Are Traveling Through Hel

At some point, after the tears, Nora must have fallen back asleep, because she woke up under the velvet blankets and furs on Loki’s bed, the torc and her socks having been removed, and another glass of water waiting for her on nightstand with a beautifully scrawled note threatening her with dire consequences if she got up before drinking it.

Nora snorted into the glass, but drank it anyway. She was still so dry she creaked.  Her whole body was painful, aching from being Jotunn handled, from the cold, and from the deep stress working on her muscles

Sitting on the chair near the fire, where they would be warm, was a neatly folded stack of clothing, the jar of skin cream, and another note saying that she needed to take a bath with the salts Loki had made for her.

“Get him…” Nora muttered to herself. “One little confession of undying love and he thinks he owns me.”

_Nora drifted off a bit anyway, not having the energy to follow his thoughts let alone his body. She woke with Loki giving her a large glass of water, “Drink this,” and rushing back out of the room, coming back from the bathroom with a container of the body cream she liked.  “Finish that,” he commanded, and while part of her wanted to slam the glass down at that point it just tasted too good.  It was like she could feel the moisture spreading through her poor, dry cells._

_When she finished he situated her to his liking on and began to massage the cream into her skin, working her stiff muscles, still not talking._

_It was heaven.   His long, graceful fingers and strong hands smoothing and working with just enough pressure to relieve her discomfort with just a touch of clean pain.  The cramping made her wince and then died away under his hands._

_“The next time we do that maybe we don’t outside on the coldest day ever.” She murmured, about to fall back asleep._

_Something dripped onto her back and ran down her side._

_Then again. And again._

_Nora rolled over._

_Silently, as if he were alone, Loki was crying._

_She stroked his cheek, brushing the tears._

_Something in that gesture broke something in him, and he grabbed her about the waist, burying his face against her, and sobbed. “I’m sorry Nora.  I’m sorry for bringing chaos and death into your life.  I am so sorry for almost killing you it makes me ill.  I am sorry for all that my family has asked of you.  But I love you. I love you even though I never believed in it.  I love you so entirely that it has done the opposite of what the poets say, because loving you has driven me sane.   And I am most sorry that I love you because I will never let you go.  The chaos, the madness, the danger, I am keeping you in that world forever because I am a selfish, grasping monster and you are mine.”_

Nora felt her legs give out and she sat down hard enough to bruise.

That was right. Loki loved her. _Loki_ loved her.  Loki _loved_ her.  Loki loved _her_.  And, being Loki, he had shown up her little ‘I love you,’ in the way a pair of capris from Old Navy was shown up by a Dior ball gown.

And Nora knew that for a fact because she had seen those two items side by side when she opened her Christmas “present” from him.

She had given him a book. It was a good book, but …

Nora fell back, laying on lush stack of Persian rugs and felt her heart race. How could he possibly be in love with her?  The man who compared the entirety of her species to an ant.  Not even an anthill, but just an ant. 

Falling in love with a god wasn’t scary, ultimately, or even at all strange, when she thought about it. Wasn’t that what humans did with gods?  Love and worship them.  But a god being in love with you?  That was unnatural, and terrifying.

 

Loki stared at his computer. In the hours since Nora had fallen asleep in his arms, her poor, worn body looking so fragile and her face so drawn, he had tried to keep busy.  He had sent out over a dozen emails and responded to even more, written a disquisition on the practicality of ceremonial magic in the office, created a new sub-level to the consultancy website that could only be accessed by the undead, and baked three dozen batches of Mexican Wine cookies.

He was so unglued he felt a need to scream.

Loki desperately wished Nora awake. He wanted her company, to have her sitting at her own desk, muttering to herself as she did when annoyed at a task he had set her, which was near as not every task he set her.  How mouthwatering he found her when disgruntled, finding himself creating mental lists of all of those things which might beguile her from that mood. 

But more than to simply distract himself with the pleasure he took in her company, Loki had to know. He had to know how she felt about his words.  Words that had been deep in his chest for so long, that he had hidden from both of them, fearing rejection even after her own avowal to him. 

Nora’s love was a benison, so it should follow that his would be a scourge.

He should-

She was awake. He heard her leaving his room, the smell of apples and lavender from the salts he had prepared for her acting as her heralds.  And as much as he had desired her company he now wished Nora was still asleep, or bathing, or anywhere but coming towards him.

What would he say to her? “Yes, well, now that you know I am your supplicant, what do you plan on doing with me?”

She went to the kitchen. Good, excellent, she needed food and he needed more time.  But within scant moments Nora had joined him the office, drinking coffee and finishing a cookie.  She stopped just inside the door and they stared at each other. 

Her short dark hair was still slightly damp, and she was wearing the woolen trousers and silk sweater he had left for her, and a pair of heavy black socks. There were dark circles still beneath her eyes, and a dark bruise where her throat and shoulder met from where Loki had no doubt bitten her, though he could not remember doing so.

She was as radiant as sunlight in a forest.

Nora put down her cup. “We need to talk.”

“No, we do not.” Loki stood and walked towards the kitchen, wondering if he would manage to open the door without ripping it off, there was so much adrenalin suddenly flooding his body.  “We need to talk,” was a universal phrase meaning only one thing.

He could hear her racing a little to catch up with his stride, “No, we really do, need to talk that is.”

He turned on her, “No, I refuse to allow it. You are simply frightened, and no doubt still in pain, so I will not allow you to end things between us because-“

“Oh. My. God! Will you stop with the always thinking I am running away from you? Jesus!  I am just freaking out a little, and I think with good reason.  It has been a very eventful morning for me.  I know that for someone who has lived for over a thousand years having someone tell you they love AFTER what happened on the roof is a little – I just need to know how this is going to work.  Do I still work for you, for instance?  And what if your father finds out?  Have you thought of that?”

“I can assure you that I try to never think of you and Odin in the same moment. Even now it is making me unwell.  And why should these matters worry you now if they did not when you told me the same thing?”

“I didn’t tell you the same thing. I said ‘I love you’ and then went to sing karaoke.   You gave me an operatic declaration of love, and then told me there is nothing I can do about it.”

“Which speaks volumes on both our characters.” Loki roughly pulled her into his arms, “Nora….” He crooned her name, putting his fingers under her chin, tilting her face to his, “Perhaps we will pretend to be as other people are and therefore let things come as they will.  But know that I much more afraid than you are.  As you so kindly mentioned my age, it is perhaps only fair that you know that in all of those many years I have never said to any creature what I said to you.  Never felt as I do now. I am not certain that I do not find it abhorrent.”  Nora snorted in his face. 

“Three nice things, one insult. It’s good to know you aren’t going to let love change you.”  She muttered, tilting her head down and nipping at the fingers holding her in place.

Loki growled at the feel of her teeth, “I know that you have been in love before, so yet again I require your guidance.”

“I wasn’t very good at it. He was absolutely terrible.”

“Which gives me hope I may yet manage to impress. Now, kiss me.”

Nora stood on her toes, nuzzling against his jaw, one hand reaching up to stroke the nape of his neck, and then pushed a kiss up to his lips, her mouth soft and lazy. They drank each other, taking little sips first, lips almost pursed, near to fastidious, with each touch growing slightly slower and broader, becoming more and more generous, as if competing to see who could give more of themselves over to the other.  

Loki lifted Nora, seating her on one of the counters, running his hands under her sweater, smoothing and swirling his broad palms over her back, her sides, along her breasts, wanting to touch her everywhere at once. But softly, as softly as he could, knowing how many bruises of his making adorned her fragile skin. 

She wrapped her long legs around his hips, one of her hands stroking deeply through his hair (an endless source of fascination for her, he had discovered), the other grabbing his ass, trying futilely to pull him against her core.

“No, my sweet princess, I think that we have been rough enough with you for one day.” He said matter-of-factly in her ear, and then swirling the tip of his tongue along its curves.

Nora writhed involuntarily against him, “Really,” she gasped, “seriously, don’t call me princess. I will kill you in your sleep.”

“Ehehehehehehe…. It would be adorable to see you try,” Loki slid a hand under her bra, catching the edge of his calloused fingertips on her nipple, just barely abrading it, and then pushed her sweater up and laved and soothed the same place, and then offered the same service to its twin. His free hand found her waist and with quick fingers opened her trousers, softly working his way under her panties to where she was wet, swollen, and always waiting for him.  “Ummm, I have to devour you.”

He knelt, resisting the urge to simply tear her clothing away and bury his face and then penis between her legs. How he wanted to, his aching cock was practically beating itself to death against his zipper.  Instead he pulled Nora’s trousers down to her ankles, and licked her with the abandoned reverence of a supplicant before an altar.  For the first time, Loki understood what it was that those who prayed received in return for their devotion.

When he felt Nora tense against his mouth, her cunt flickering and then pulsing against his invading tongue, he stood. Leaning on one arm over her, sprawled on her back on the cold marble surface, Loki undid himself, teasing his head against her opening, then easing himself within and swirling a finger around her clit.  But nothing more. 

Her jaw was strained and he licked a drop of sweat the rolled down from her temple to pool next to one of her dark brown eyes like an unshed tear.

He pulled out and tucked himself away with a firm zip and the pulled her trousers back into place as well, buttoning her and then patting her stomach fondly.

“What? Is something-“ Nora’s eyes were glossy and confused, and she was shaking too hard to lift herself up.

“No,” he crooned to her, “I warned you, treasure, those weeks ago, what my favorite of all wanton acts is. Tonight, I plan to make you hate me as much as I love you, and then love me that much more.  And then tomorrow you are staying in bed all day.  I dislike how tired you appear.  It worries me.”

Loki wrapped her legs back around him and then lifted her to return to them to his bed.

“You realize that there is something crazy about planning on wearing me out when you are worried about my being tired, you ass,” Nora hissed in his ear.

“Yes, my sweet girl, but we all know that I am mad. Poor, little you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Improving the Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to the beautiful and talented Caffiend for her Beta magic.

The meeting with the Russians had gone mostly well, at least Nora had that impression. For much of the meal – huge steaks, martinis, and foie gras (since the ban was lifted), all of the trappings of American life at its most retro decadent in the conservative splendor of Gibsons – the Boyars of the St. Petersburg Goblin Market had insisted on speaking Russian with Magnus, leaving Nora and their lovely and highly paid female companions out of the most of it. 

Actually, one of the few things she had managed to gather was that the Russians started out under the impression that she was also a paid companion and that Loki was probably being over-charged, based on her looks and manner of dress. Unless, of course, she had an unusual specialty…

Nora hadn’t been offended. The three hard-eyed, fleshy faced jerks were actual oligarchs.  They probably paid someone to there have manners for them and had forgotten to pack them for this trip. 

Loki, on the other hand, was not pleased.

Things had not looked good for Rasmussen Consulting getting the contract OR for the Russians continuing to have spleens in their bodies. For a moment Nora saw Loki’s eyes flicker with red, and she had to feign a coughing fit on a garlic crouton to distract him.  When he had calmed himself Magnus explained in a terrifyingly calm voice that Nora was his very talented aide, dear, good friend, and the recently adopted (without her consent, but still and all) _filleule_ of the Hive Queen of the North Shore.  And while he had nothing but the highest respect for the most ancient and honorable profession of their charming lunch companions, it might still be wise to offer Nora a very abject apology indeed.

In spite of being offered in highly questionable and confusing English, Nora recognized that the apologies were so abject they bordered on the obsequious.

Afterwards, they all stood outside on Rush St. in the snow, the poor girls freezing, Nora bored, and Magnus and the Russians all merrily saying their endless goodbyes. It probably felt like April to them.

In the back of the limo with the window raised, Loki took his torc off briefly so he could kiss her properly. Since the polar vortex Nora noticed that he avoided any intimate contact with her as Magnus. 

“Well, my treasure,” he said, torc back in place, “how do you feel about a trip to St. Petersburg? It is quite lovely for a human city.  I haven’t been there in ages.  Not since Catherine –“

Nora gave the driver instructions to drive her to west town to get her hair cut after dropping Magnus at home. “If you tell me that you were involved with Catherine the Great I will-“

“What? Scream?  Weep?  Beg me to make love to you like a Czarina right in this very conveyance?  It is not as romantic as in a carriage rolling through a frozen forest at midnight, paced by riding soldiers trying not to hear her cries of pleasure, but the suspension will be less likely to cause injury to your back.” 

How he managed to smirk through such a long sentence was beyond her.

“I just won’t believe you. Don’t forget my doggie bag,” Nora handed him her leftovers as he climbed out. There was no way she wasn’t eating the rest of that steak in the middle of night standing in front of the fridge.  “You did not make love to Catherine the Great.”

“Well, technically, you are correct. There was no love involved at all.  We could not stand each other, but Koschei was so determined to play matchmaker that season.  He had just gotten back together with Marya and he wanted everyone to share their doubtless temporary joy.  And he was right about Cathy and I having a great deal in common. We were both great horse lovers -”

“No, enough!” Nora threw a hand into his laughing face, covering his mouth.  She had never quite gotten the nerve up to ask him about that particular piece of mythology.  “As far as the trip goes, I cannot fucking wait!  I can see all of the sites from the Siege of Leningrad!  Now, that’s history!”

Loki sighed and rolled his eyes. “Why I am I not wonderstruck at your utter lack of romance?  We could go to the Hermitage, but you want to commemorate war and cannibalism.”  He muttered around her hand, his lips and tongue tickling her palm, making her want to squirm.  She pulled her hand away and rubbed it hard on her wool pant leg.

He gave his sinuous, staccato laugh.

Nora shrugged. “The Russians are the only people who have made more of a virtue out of defeat than the Irish.  And those pitiful Cubs fans.  I feel a kinship.  Besides, they have a great jazz scene in the Former Soviet, so I am in and in and in.”

 

A few hours later, hair newly short and nearly fashionable, Nora was back at the 999, sitting on the floor by the fire in the bedroom, trying to figure out the Cyrillic keyboard translator that Loki had set up on her laptop. “You have to promise me one thing,” she said, not looking up.  “You have to absolutely promise me that you are not going to do anything to help Putin.  No matter what.”  She said, not looking up.

“Well, treasure-“ Loki started. 

“NO. Nothing.  That motherfucker.”  She looked up at him.  There was a look in Loki’s eye that she had seen once or twice before when she had mentioned hating someone powerful and important.  A look that said, ‘Under other circumstances I would probably be willing to have a mutually beneficial relationship with that excrescence, but, oh well….’

“No. Seriously.  No.”  Damn, were there actually two Es in this alphabet?  “And while we are there I think we should-“

Loki was abruptly no longer sprawled on the bed, an elegant finger holding his place in a book on the sympathetic magic practiced by the Ainu, but was towering over her, lifting the laptop off of her, and then her off of the floor. He dropped into his favorite, velvet-covered chair (the one that replaced the one that Django had claimed months before) with her on his lap.  “No,” he whispered into her temple as he brushed her hair away from her face.

 “No what?” Nora asked.  There was no way he knew what she was going to ask for.

“We are not going to free Pussy Riot.”

“But-“

He nuzzled her cheek, nipping just hard enough to assure her attention, “Vladimir, who you rightly despise, has connections to my dear old friend Stark’s company since his earliest KGB days. While I am sure that while Tony is now on the side of harp-playing peace-lovers they still do business.  I am certain that if I were to act against Vlad he would find a way to have me in the dungeon that Stark and Banner have been tinkering with under Avengers Tower in anticipation of my potential return.”

“Darn.”

“I promise you will still love Russia, my militant precious. The creatures, leshyi who walk in the forests, the bereginya on the riverbanks, domovoi in the houses.”  His voice grew lower and softer as he chanted those names, kissing her along her neck, one hand stroking her back under her soft blouse, the other slowly spreading her legs so it could rest, cupping between her legs.  “My old friend Koschei the Deathless and his soldier girl, you’ll like her.  She kept him chained in her basement for a decade and when he was finally free he carried her off to his kingdom to be a queen.” 

“Sounds like a complicated relationship.” Nora whispered, dragging a hand through his long, ink-black hair, turning her face into it so he could drag his mouth along the front of her throat and so she could inhale that strange mix of wood smoke, icy juniper, and deep stone that it smelled of. She pushed herself

against his unmoving hand, and then rode on it when his palm pressed against her clit through the wool and cotton. She snarled some of that hair in her hand, hurting him just a little so now she could lick where his neck met his shoulder and then bite into it like a ripe pear.

“I find that complicated relationships have a rare deliciousness. Ahhh!”  He moaned as he could feel her grow wet enough to feel through her clothing.  Then her hand was under his silk tunic, her nails dragging across his chest.  God, but he was so beautiful that sometimes Nora had to close her eyes when they were together just to keep from being overwhelmed by the sight of him. 

The hand stroking her back stopped and then it wrapped itself around her throat, just a whisper on the side of too hard, of frightening. “Be still, Nora.”  Using that pressure he turned her so her back rested on his chest, and his other hand quickly opened her pants and slipped inside, easily finding her swollen and very needy clit, but not moving on it.

“Shall I tell you a story? About the time that so many creatures walked in Russia, in the Ukraine, in the Siberian forests that there were more of them than there was mankind to fear them?”  He began to stroke one finger on her, just her clit and very, very slowly.  Nora had learned that Loki could be slower than plate tectonics if he wished, and the more she might try to rush him the slower he would chose to go, so she stayed still, letting his story unfold and his caress drive her out of her mind.

“The Perelesnyk was a demon, or maybe an angel if you were a lonely woman in the cold of winter with no one to warm her bed. He was a dragon who would fly in fire until he spotted a woman bereaved, one who had lost her man and was still ripe.  He would wait until night and she would dream that her lover had returned to her and was in her bed, and when she woke in her greatest pleasure he would be behind her, her legs spread to him, in the form of her lost darling, taking his place. 

“For days and days he would make love to her, more skillfully and attentively than her human mate ever would, or could for that matter, making her come (not you yet, treasure, not yet) and making her do things she would never have done before, being a good woman. Making her love those things he did to her and her to him.   

“Sometimes he would take some of her blood. Not to feed, but to make them closer.  To entwine her ever more tightly, like a vine upon a tree.  And if anyone were to speak a word against her for taking such a lover, for letting herself be fooled, for wanting to be fooled, he would burn down the house of her accuser. 

“The fearful would use forest magic, plants like toya, and sanctified daisies, rue, kalya, willow, all to drive the Perelesnyk from the house of his lover before his passion overthrew her sense and destroyed her poor, frail body. But sometimes a strong girl, a clever woman, would trap the dragon right back.  He would be the one overthrown, his serpent nature destroyed by his need for his delicate human mate, and he would stay with her, devoting himself to her care and satisfaction to her last day.  And then he would take her body to the sky with him, a dragon again, but still loyal.”

He pressed his finger more firmly, and rubbed his thumb on her racing pulse and then whispered with a rough husk to his voice into her ear as he plunged two of his fingers deep into her flooded cunt, “Finish yourself on my hand, and let me feel your satisfaction.”

Nora’s hips jerked and then moved in a sinuous wave, brushing her ass against his pulsing erection. She let all of her weight fall against his chest and let her body do what it wanted, moving harder and faster, grinding against his hand and his cock.  His grip on her throat loosened a touch as one of his long, elegant fingers glided between her lips, rubbing the tip of her tongue. 

With that little, strange, touch, her hips arched up and she came, her mouth open in a voiceless cry, the tears she knew Loki loved rolling back from the corners of her eyes into her hair, his fingers holding her in place until it started to hurt. And then he took her to bed.

 

Loki opened an eye. For once Nora was up before he was.  Humans needed so much sleep, but at some point she had slipped out from under his arm without waking him.

Ever surprising, his treasure.

She must have been up for some time, since she had showered and was dressing. She pulled one of the cashmere sweaters he had gifted her with at Christmas over her head, and then did that little gesture where she shook out her hair that always made him want to take the sweater right back off of her. 

“Where are you going at seven am?” he asked, not lifting his head, knowing that his raspy morning voice had the same effect on her that the fluffing of her hair had on him.

“Home for the day. If we are going to St. Petersburg next week I have to check that my pretty new roof and my not-so-pretty old pipes are ok.  Do a few other things.  I haven’t been home in days.  There is probably mail I should see.”

“I can send-“

“No. I need to do it.  I need to be –“  She stopped lacing her boots, “I’m nervous about the flight.  Its long.  Really long.”

Loki wanted to go over to her, but he could tell that she did not want that. Not at that moment.  “You know I will take care of you.  You will never be alone.”

Nora gave him a weak, brave smile that hurt him dreadfully. “I know.”  She finished her laces and then walked to kiss him goodbye.  Loki experienced the novelty of resisting temptation as he did not try to lure her back into bed.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” He sat up now, alarmed.

“Marissa thing is tonight. The wedding planning thing.  It’s closer for me to stay at my house.”  She gave him one of those little human waves that he still did not understand and left. 

Remembering something, Loki called out, “Wait, do not forget-“

He could hear the outer door clicking shut.

There was a gurgling, hoarse ‘woof’ of annoyance from where Django was sleeping on Loki’s discarded tunic.

“-the dog.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By this point, in the real world, the two members of the band Pussy Riot had been freed from prison as part of a general amnesty from Putin, but I just couldn't resist the idea of it.


	3. I Hate the Way I Don’t Hate You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to Caffiend. You are the best and the most wonderful. 
> 
> She also rec'd Huehuehue's wonderful A Christmas Carol to me. If you like my story you will utterly love it -   
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/6772504/chapters/15478543

Nora’s animal was making a noise.

Loki tried to ignore it, going on with his work. His clients in New Orleans were having an issue with a new vendor whose products seemed both too good to be true and potentially addictive.  He examined the item carefully.  It was exceptionally well-crafted, with multiple layers of enchantment combining in both the materials and how they had been put together.  He was impressed.

As far as he could tell there was nothing specious about it. It was simply exceptional work of a quality rarely seen in this Realm.

Although how one could become addicted to ensorcelled picture frames was a bit of a puzzle to him.

And how he could be wasting his time and energy on trying to work out such a thing was more than a puzzle. Once King of Asgard, AllFather in all but name.  Now tinkering with bits of wood, marketing schemes, and opining for mere money on which shade of paint would make people more likely to spend more of that money.

The mighty had fallen and landed with a distressingly soft splat.

The creature continued to make the noise. It had followed him from its normal place in the bedroom to his private workroom.  In spite of his carefully non-violent attempts to dissuade it.

Loki wondered if he should be concerned. It was not one of its normal wheezing, or snuffling, or squeaking sounds.   Not the low, unexpectedly feral growl that it made in the direction of other animals.  And Charles.  It was a new sound that seemed to be emanating from its gastric system. 

Which was suddenly joined by a smell so fetid and prodigious that it seemed impossible that it should have come from a creature the size of a shoebox. A smell so all-encompassing that he feared he may have to burn down the building to ever be rid of it.

The creature looked at the liquid mess it had created, and then at him, as if daring him to do something about it.

Somehow the base thing recognized that because its well-being mattered to Nora it owned him.

How degraded love had made him. A god unable to even smite an elderly cur for fear of earning his mistress’s displeasure. 

Now Loki was the one who growled.

“CHARLES! Bring ALL of the cleaning supplies!  MRS. BEEKMAN!  Have you been giving this monstrous object fondue for breakfast again?!”

 

 

Nora felt like maybe she and Loki had been spending too much time together.

Not in the sense of being irritated with the sight of him. Sadly, she loved the sight of him even more now than she had before.  Actually, the meetings with clients and the time that Mrs. Beekman was in the condo were something of a relief.  Loki’s Magnus form was handsome, but easy enough to resist.  But when he was himself, Nora found it difficult to concentrate on anything else. 

She had only finished three books since New Year’s Day.

There were so many shows on his DVR, which only she used, it was starting to make an ominous groaning sounds.

And she had skipped karaoke last week.

The thought that she had turned into a woman who would miss a night with her friends to stay home with her boyfriend (No, that just sounded wrong), her lover (that sounded ridiculous), with a man (fine, sort of), sitting by the fireplace and talking, made Nora feel like she didn’t know who she was anymore.

Because that was the worst part. It wasn’t even as if they were just having sex all of the time.  They were just together.  Two nights before she had laid on the couch trying to finish The Goldfinch, while Loki was in the kitchen messing with a potion and baking a seven-layer cake.  Then they had eaten cake and drunk coffee while listening to old Judy Henske records. 

Granted, after the cake they had ended up on the floor with her riding him like she was Paul Revere and the British were right there, but still.   They were the picture of domestic bliss.

There was no question this was the happiest she had ever been in her life.

And it was scaring the hell out of her.

Because it was going to end. Someday, probably sooner rather than later, there would be something to end it.  Lady Sif would show up on their (his, damn it, his) doorstep with a note from Daddy that all was forgiven and Loki could come back to heaven.  Or Thor would land on the roof, needing his little brother to help him save Farawayandfullofhotblondesbrunettesandredheadsheim from demonically possessed My Little Ponies.  Or Loki would get bored and decide that he had had enough of pretending to be the good little prisoner.  Anyone who insisted on having an entirely different breakfast every day of the year was not going to put up with routine for any length of time.  Not when he had the entirety of the universe as his potential playground.

There was something about this trip to St. Petersburg, and the one he was hoping to have in March to London with the New and Improved Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, that spoke of a deep restlessness.

No matter how much he loved her, he would-

And at that thought Nora remembered exactly how he had expressed that love the night before and nearly slipped off of her roof.

Nope. She put him out of her head until she finished chipping ice from around the chimney, thinking that she should have worn her Christmas boots instead of her old trainers, but they weren’t comfortable yet. 

Finally done, Nora speared the long scraper down to her front yard where she would need it for the sidewalk. Just missing Loki, dressed in the long black coat and the leather gloves she especially found troubling, Django hanging loosely 

under his arm. He was staring up at her with his mouth slightly open. 

It looked endearingly cute on him. She should have known he wouldn’t let her leave the dog at his place for any length of time.  Still, eight hours, that was pretty good.  Nora waved, “I’ll be right down.” 

She swung herself back in the window under the eaves that lead to her bedroom, just catching out of the corner of her eye the annihilating look Loki was giving her.

What was that about?

Oh, damn, Django had clearly done something pretty disgusting if -

As she exited the house Loki grabbed her by her upper arms, pushing her against the outside wall, his jaw set and his eyes hooded. Heaving breaths piped out him in gusts of steam.  He had transformed to his own form, and there was a red glint in the depths of his green eyes that was never good.

How much damage could the little dog that was now blithely passing them on his way into the house have done?

“What. Is. Wrong. With. You?” Loki huffed out, barely able to speak.

“Nothing. Except you are kind of squeezing my arms. What did Django do?  Did he ruin one of the carpets?  Or another chair?  I am really sorry-“

Abruptly he let her go, his face suddenly very calm, but he didn’t move or loosen his grip. “Why were you on the roof with a weapon?”

“It’s an ice scraper. I was scraping ice with it.” 

“Why?” His voice was very soft, and a touch…hissing…

“Um, because … ice on the roof is bad.” Nora spoke slowly, not sure what this mood was.  “I do it every year.  Well, every year I need to.  Last winter was pretty mild.  I was about to do the stairs and the sidewalk.”  He didn’t say anything.  Loki not filling a silence was unnerving.  “Um, because if you don’t do the roof first you just end up with ice all over the sidewalk again.”

Silence.

“I should get started.”

“On the sidewalk?” Finally, he said something. 

“Yes.”

“That sidewalk?” He let go of her right arm and made a graceful, negligent gesture over his shoulder.

“Yes.” Nora was starting to get angry at his anger and she gritted the word from between her teeth.

Loki flicked one finger just the tiniest bit. A barely visible motion.

Her stairs, the sidewalk leading her house, and as far as she could see all of the way down the block, were clear of ice and snow and bone dry. The piles of snow were so neat and perfect that they gave the impression of being a little bit afraid.

“There. All better.”  He leaned in whispering in her ear, and then kissed her.  It was brutal, unkind kiss, invasive and ugly.  It left her gasping and needy and furious.

“Let the fuck go of me,” she said, her voice washed away by rage so she was just moving air.

Loki stepped back, sneering. “What? Can’t I kiss my sweetheart when I missed her 

all day?”

Nora’s voice came back with a little something extra.  “Don’t give me that ‘punishing kisses’ bullshit!  If you’re mad at me for leaving the fucking dog at your place, or for being on the roof and making you worry, just tell me!  Christ!”  She pushed past him and back into the house.  Then she leaned out again, “And thank you for the clean up on the sidewalk, but I can take care of my own house!”

He stormed in after her, “By risking your neck? Why bother?  You know I can-“

“Because I refuse to be more dependent on you than I already am,” she whispered, going into the kitchen to make tea because she needed something to do with her hands. She whipped her coat off and threw it against the back door, which was really unsatisfying.

Just as she finished making her cup, Loki came into the kitchen, his coat off and his expression calmer. He saw the coat in a pile on the floor.  Making a ‘tsking’ noise he picked it up and neatly hung it over a chair.  “Is that how you treat a gift?”  And just like that he was sane again.  Seemed sane again.

Nora was annoyed that he was suddenly fine now that she was mad. She was annoyed that there was no milk in the fridge because she was never home so why buy groceries?  She was annoyed by the color of the tile-floor, that she needed clean her stove, and that she needed to get changed to go to Marissa’s. 

“If you had told me what you were planning to do here I would have happily come with you this morning to assist.” Loki sat at the small kitchen table with her, making the room feel small. 

Everything in Nora’s old life felt smaller these days. Uncomfortably so.

“I didn’t need your help. Or want it.  Ok?  What part of this isn’t clear?  I need to be able to take care of my things, of myself, for when you -.  I would have picked up the coat.  I wasn’t going to leave it there.”

“Shall I put it back on the floor? Would that ease your anger?”  Oh, now he was pretending to be reasonable!

“Yeah, just toss it on the floor and pretend that I am being irrational.” Nora started to stand, but Loki put out a hand.  For a moment she couldn’t figure out what the gesture meant, if he was going to grab her again or cast a spell.

Then she realized he wanted her hand.

She stared at his long, slender fingers with their lightly calloused tips. The graceful curve of his palm. 

They had never held hands. It wasn’t something that came naturally to either of them.  She hadn’t held hands with anyone since Patrick had ended their engagement, and she was pretty sure that Loki had probably never held hands with anyone outside of his family.

Slowly she slid her hand along his. It was cool and warm at the same time.  His fingers closed and his other hand covered the top of hers, lightly stroking.

The intimacy of that motion took her breath away.

“Your dog destroyed a Qom rug that probably should have been in one of your museums, I missed you dreadfully all day, and I am a powerful, evil being and I spent an hour of my existence analyzing some wood and nails to see if they were naughty in some way, so my temper is not what it should be.”

“

You aren’t evil.”

“I-“

“You are a kin to chaos, your temper is ugly, and if I dug around inside of you I would be more likely to find a nougat center than a moral one, but you aren’t evil. If you were evil you wouldn’t hurt so much.  I missed you, too.”

“We were only apart for a day. Less than a day.”

“I know. And some day you are going to be gone entirely, back home where your father doesn’t like mortals.”

“I know. And some day you are going to die and I will have to live millennia knowing the universe is empty of you.”

“This isn’t a contest.”

Loki laughed.

“I have to get ready to go to Marissa’s. Can you text her that I am going to be late?”  She got up and started up the narrow stairs.

“I thought you worked for me?” He muttered, pulling out his phone

 

Nora tried not to compare her crappy shower with Loki’s twenty jet steam shower with the little wooden benches, _and_ aromatherapy options. At least she should have plenty of hot water.

“What a dreadful appliance.” Loki stepped into the tub with her, cupping her breasts and kissing the place where her neck and shoulder met.  The spot that always made her the most crazy.

“I need – ahhhh, yessss, - I need to hurry. Oh, god, here,” she took one of hands away from where it was pinching her nipple and pushed it between her legs, using his fingers to touch herself.  The hot water and texture of his skin made her pant.

“Not to worry – ummm, so wet and so swollen, so desperate – I sent your apologies and a bottle of champagne.”

Nora slammed her hands on the wall and then turned, “I am not giving up my friends to be with you all of the time. Not even if I want to.”

“No, nor do I wish you to. I only told her that you would be rather late, but you would be there.  Now let me fuck you before your pitiful hot water heater fails us.”  He pulled her into his arms, and then lifted her, legs spread.  He kissed her, his tongue tracing patterns on the roof of her mouth, the tip of his cock just barely touching the hair between her legs, then just lightly brushing against her clit, and then deep in her. 

He did not prop her against the wall, and when she tried to reach up to grab the shower rod so she could move herself, he grabbed her wrists and held her arms behind her back, using one arm only to slip her up and down. Nora could only hold him with her legs and let him use her as he saw fit. 

Mostly.

She clamped him, inside and out, as hard as she could, her teeth grazing the solid, alabaster skin of his chest, wanting more. Wanting to be like this forever, wanting to rend him to pieces and be rent to pieces as well.  She moved her teeth to his neck, and then sucked hard, making him moan.  Her cunt began to flutter in time to his rhythm and she begged, “Grind me against you.”

Loki gave a nearly grieving sigh, and then the glissade of his strokes turned into a deep, impaling thrust and then the working of his hips in a circle, dragging on her clit and hitting a place in her that made her drip around him.

Nora looked up at his face, head thrown back, water rolling off of his cheekbones, his thin, intense mouth curled in a lazy smile, his eyes closed. He could do this forever.  Would do it forever if she let him.

Actually forever, or as near to it as she could imagine.

That thought sent her over the edge, the unexpected and intense orgasm making her flail in his arms with a scream. Even Loki was taken aback.

“Treasure? Are you-“ he stopped, letting go of her wrists, cradling her against him.  It was the first time in weeks that she had come without his guidance or command.

“I’m fine, I just, I just, something just occurred to me.”

“And it made you orgasm?” He sounded amused and a bit rueful. 

“Yes.”

“What was it?”

Nora gave him what she hoped was an enigmatic smile, “None of your business,” she said, as she slowly sat down on the edge of the tub and took him her mouth.

 

 


	4. I Have No Time For That Nonsense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Driehaus Stained Glass Museum is an enchanted space in the most unlikely place, and its free. If you are ever in Chicago I suggest braving the horrors of Navy Pier to see it. Oh, and go to the Shakespeare Theatre, too. But don't eat out there. Seriously.

Loki should have realized something was wrong. Or, more to the point, he should always assume that something was wrong and act accordingly.   As ever since the beginning of his exile on Midgard, whenever he became lax something went amiss. 

Still, when he nodded to Torey (recently promoted from garage attendant to doorman at 999) as he entered his building that afternoon he should have noticed something familiar about the starry, dazed look in the man’s eye. And the slack jawed quality to his smile.

“Mr. M! Isn’t it the most beautiful day?”  Torey’s voice also what should have been upsettingly recognizable vagueness for him.  But, in Loki’s defense, he had just received a very irritating voicemail from the Boyars of the St. Petersburg Market explaining that it would not be possible for them to obtain an entire house for his upcoming visit, but they would arrange a the largest suite at the Astoria for him and his retinue. 

He was in the middle of a shouting match with Mr. Ivanshin about how that would NOT be acceptable, no matter how much caviar and honey-filled gingerbread would be waiting in the suite for him upon his arrival and so did not really hear Torey’s insane pronouncement.

It was a filthy day, the afternoon sky the dark colour of a bone-deep bruise, with the clouds spilling slush onto the soot and exhaust-grimed snow that covered the city.

But Loki did notice when Rudy, the venerable and sensible man who ran the lift, gave him the same brainless, blissful look. “You have a visitor, Mr. Magnussen.  The most wonderful, beautiful visitor.  She’s a goddess!”  The ancient veteran had the slow, asinine quality of a besotted spaniel, and Loki knew….

“Yes, she is.” He growled.  “A goddess who deserves a good, hard spanking.”  Just as he spoke the doors slid open, revealing Lorelei perched on one of the chairs outside of his flat, her perfect body largely visible in a Versace dress that he knew was not supposed to be available for another two months, her red-gold hair falling in languid waves over her bare shoulders.

“Oooh, that is a game we haven’t played in a while, highness,” she cooed in her most seductive tone, slowly standing, smoothing her skirt and winking at poor, enchanted Rudy.

Loki resisted the desire to change back into his own form, since Magnus was currently the same height as Lorelei in her sky-high heels. Then again, Lori had never been a fighter, preferring to seduce or run as the situation called for it, so he really didn’t need the advantage.  He crossed the room in two long steps and grabbed her by the throat, “Let them go, sweet siren, or I will make you weep bloody tears,” he whispered in his own voice, making her squirm for what were a cornucopia of good reasons.

“Very well. It was hardly meant to be permanent.”  She gave a low, short whistle, and Loki could feel the enchantment dissipate. 

“Of course not. If you had that kind of power you would have been of much greater use to me the past,” he let her go, after a quick, sharp squeeze that left her rubbing her graceful throat.  “Have a good evening Rudy,” he called over his shoulder to the confused man.

Loki let them in, shifting into himself since it was Mrs. Beekman’s day off.

“You know, your valet was very insulting to me. Not only would he not let me in, he would not even listen to me.  And he told me that if I did not leave before someone named Miss Walsh returned he would be forced to kill and eat me.” 

“Excellent.”

Charles was standing just inside the door, holding a Bersa Thunder 38 in one hand and a porcelain chef’s knife in the other. He had unbuttoned his jacket, vest, and shirt, just in case.  Loki clapped him on the shoulder, “My good man, you just earned yourself a pair of Air Jordan Retro IIIs.  Now, Lady Lorelei and I will be having tea, and until further notice she is my … tolerated guest.  However, if her sister shows up please feel free to kill her in the most unpleasant but delicious for you manner that you can devise.”

He gestured for Lorelei to walk in front of him to the larger, more formal dining room that he rarely used.

Every time Lorelei tried to speak he raised a finger to his lips until after Charles had brought them a pot of weak Tetley’s Tea and a plate of inferior cookies. “Now, what do you want and how quickly can you leave this realm?” 

“Why, Loki….” Lorelei leaned forward, purring and showing off her cleavage.

He waved her off, “Nothing new to see there, Lori. If I was bored of them - and by ‘them’ I mean you, of course - years ago what makes you think you would be freshly intriguing now?”

She dropped back into her seat, arms crossed, pouting. “You used to be fond of me.”

Indeed he had. Once upon a time, when his schemes against his family, and everyone else for that matter, had been pettier but more fun, he had been very fond of Lorelei.  _And_ her dreadful, but more powerful sister Amora.  One night, after an especially embarrassing plot against Thor had come to fruition, he had been  _exceptionally_ fond of them both at the same time.  “As a younger god I enjoyed many ultimately uninteresting and insipid things.  We all grow.  And I know you Lorelei; this sulking child act is beneath the dignity of the goddess who stole the sapphire collar from around the neck of the Queen of the Black Elves favorite pet guardsman.  Was it not while he was guarding her in court?”

Lorelei sighed and then sat up straight, her face suddenly more mature and clever. “I heard you had become rather attached to the naïve charms of this Realm, so I thought it was worth a try.”  She sipped at the tea, making a face.  “This is vile.”

“We save the good tea for welcomed visitors.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Miss Walsh, for instance?”  She drawled.

Loki snorted, “Hardly a visitor. And only welcomed for her uses.  Miss Walsh, Nora, is my assistant in my business endeavors here.  She is very, very clever and quite popular in the magic community.  Friendly with important wizards in New Orleans, the god-daughter of the Hive Queen of this region, and so on.  Needless to say, her finding an Asgardian fugitive – yes, I saw the SHIELD report, darling – in my home will make my life more complicated.  You know how I hate any complications I am not responsible for.” 

He kept his tone dismissive, but not bored. Lorelei knew him of old, and if he protested too much she would look for the lie.  She would look for the lie, either way, but he needed her to be looking for the lie he wanted her to find.

“So, she’s powerful? Important in this unimportant place?”

Marvelous. Exactly what he hoped for.

“Somewhat. Perhaps.  If she is, then it is useful to me so I need her to be content in my service….” 

Come on, Lori, figure it out, he thought, and presume to outsmart me…

She laughed. “You are bedding her, then, to keep her complacent to your advantage?”

“I don’t think that is how I would put it.” He said in a sullen voice, sipping tea and then almost spitting it out.  It was vile.

“Don’t worry, I am not here to interfere with your plans. Whatever they could be in this dull place.  I know your brother likes it here as well… how is Thor?”  She trailed off meaningfully.

Was Nora the only female who did not wish to fornicate his brother’s miniscule brain out of his ossified skull?

“Madly in love with a tiny, surprisingly strong Midgardian female, and fighting crime. Or so I assume. We are still not close. Nor are we, Lorelei. What. Do. You. Want?"

Lorelei looked down at his carpet, and then smiled.

Loki felt a long held breath leave him. He already knew he was getting off easy.

“You want me to help you steal something on Midgard, don’t you?”

“Well, yes.”

“What? I am not in the mood to play games.”

“Nothing important, Loki.” Lorelei leaned over and gripped his forearm.  “Nothing dangerous.  But I was offered a contract from … let us say an anonymous Collector… to obtain something rare, beautiful even, in this very realm.  In this very city.”  She took a drink of the tea, having forgotten how it tasted, and scowled, “A painting.  By someone named…give me a minute… I have it on this crude device…”  She pulled an iPhone from her tiny handbag, “Van Gogh?  Am I pronouncing that correctly?  His bedroom?”

Loki cocked an eyebrow at the beautiful creature across from him. “Yes.  Van Gogh’s _The Bedroom_.”

She kept scrolling, “Oh, and she also wants something called _Un dimanche après-midi à l'Île de la Grande Jatte_. Is that right?”

Lori was playing innocent. She knew exactly what those paintings were.  How beautiful.  How valuable.  How irreplaceable.  And in the case of La Grande Jatte, gigantic and presumably impossible to steal.  She no doubt also knew the specifics of all of the security measures at the Art Institute, the names of every guard who worked there, and had probably picked the shade of lipstain she would wear while committing the theft.

“And why would I help you with your petty crime? Out of the imaginary tenderness I hold for you in my fictitious heart?”

“Because I have some information. Genuinely valuable information that you don’t just want, you need it my prince.”  

They both sipped tea, with horrified expressions on their faces, and ignored the dull cookies for a time. Finally, assuming Nora would return soon, Loki set his cup down with a sound that he augmented to a bright ringing tone, “Let us go.”

Lorelei gave him a frown, “Where?”

“Away.”

 

There was only once place in Chicago, other than his home and Nora’s cramped hovel, where Loki knew he was safe from Heimdall’s prying eyes and Tony Stark’s speciest software. He had discovered it quite by accident, when still Eddie.  And likewise, its rather immense power was accidental.

The Driehaus Museum at Navy Pier housed one of the most coincidentally magical spaces in all of Midgard. One walked down the enclosed portion of the Pier, past Build-a-Bear shops, kiosks selling cheap reproductions of sepia photos and all-too-real packages of cheap and pungent incense, under the crystal garden filled with dying trees and twinkling lights, passing the weirdly elegant magic shop, the noisy children museum, and the foul food court.  After that there was a long hall, with laser tag, bad ice cream, and a public radio station on one side and a glass wall looking at the boardwalk and the (shamefully embarrassed) Lake Michigan on the other.  Then, when it seemed one could walk no farther over the water, you would pass the stairs to the convention center AND the surprisingly attractive Shakespeare theatre. 

Chicagoans had no sense of cognitive dissonance.

Finally, after too many more lights, video games, and a maze made of mirrors, one reached the Driehaus Stained Glass museum. Serene, quiet, and almost always empty.  Several long galleries in which hung dozens of examples of stained glass, from enormous, glowing Tiffany panels to simple abstracts that once graced the doorways of the wealthy of the 19th century. 

By a nearly impossible fluke there was something about the juxtaposition of the lovingly tinted and arranged glass with the inland sea outside, the frenetic energy of the visitors to the Pier and the theatre containing an very old tavern that had been imported plank by plank from England that had produced a magical halo effect, protecting anyone within its hall from mystical or practical observation or attack.

And no one in the city’s magical community knew it was there. He had only sensed it because his home was relatively close to the Pier.  It was an astonishingly powerful and peaceful place, and when he boggled over how it could have gone undetected for close to two decades Nora had snorted. 

“Only tourists and people from the far suburbs go to the Pier.”

Needless to say he had kept this little sanctuary to himself.

Lorelei stood before one of the Tiffany panels, astounded. “There is barely any security in this place, I could just walk away with half of this place.  I just need a boat.  Say,“ she turned and motioned to one of the smaller pieces, a mosaic of late summer flowers that had been recently installed, “do you notice something strange about the frame of that-“

Loki as Magnus smiled at her gently and wrapped an arm about her waist, hissing in her ear, “I am growing very irritated by your breathing of my air, siren.”

“If you kill me, you-“

He thrust her away. No one was here to see, and if he had not been afraid of it damaging the magic of the place he could easily kill her and walk away undetected.  And he _was_ trying not to do things like that, even though the thought that she might have shown up when Nora was with him made it very appealing.  “What is this information you have for me?”

Calmer now, Lorelei crossed her arms, “Now, Loki, that isn’t the deal.”

He smiled at her.

She gulped.

“Lorelei, Lorelei, dear me. Have you forgotten my rule?  Deals are mine alone to make.  You tell me what you know.  If you like, if it makes you feel safer, you can just tell me a part of it.  Just a tantalizing bit.  But you may also have forgotten that you should never feel safe when my patience is tried.”  Loki did not move.  He kept Magnus’ expression mild. 

Lorelei make a mistake. She tried to run.

He let her corner herself in one of the side galleries of the eccentrically constructed space. Bracketing her with his arms, putting his face close enough to bite he spoke again, “What do you know that I do not, little Lorelei?” He crooned at her.

“I-“

“Yes?” Loki cocked his head.  Fear and rage poured off of her, and not just because of him.  That was interesting.  “Speak up, siren.”

Finally Lorelei’s goddess-pride and anger outweighed her fear and greed. She laughed in his face and spoke.

“Thanos knows you are alive.”

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some of you may have seen the in all ways wonderful Caffiend and I are working on a crossover between my Hel stories and her Thomas and Maura adventures. And she and Hurricanerin are giving us all a big holiday present by doing a smut exchange with their stories I'm Slipping Under and Love the Way You Lie. We are very lucky readers indeed.


	5. With you, it's all nihilism, cynicism, sarcasm and orgasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again, beautiful Caffiend

Nora was irritated.

She had spent most of the afternoon having an endless lunch with her new godmother the Hive Queen, who had then insisted that Nora accompany her shopping, and then ALSO insisted on buying Nora a new dress to wear on her trip to Russia.

“Something to surprise your _homme mauvais_ with, yes?  I can just see him licking his lips and assuming no one can see how desperately he is taken with you.” 

Nora took the dress, having learned that arguing with powerful beings was a waste of time and energy. They were all spoiled and would do anything to have their way.  The dress was very pretty, she guessed, and not something she would ever actually wear.  Maybe she could have it altered for Marissa to take on her honeymoon.

When she finally escaped from what felt like an episode of The Real Demonic Entities of Glencoe, she settled into her seat on the Metro, determined to finish her book. Nora quickly became the crazy, laughing person on the train.  Knowing what she knew now, the Prose Edda was hi-larious.

Back at home she hustled Django to a late appointment with her vet, surprised to find that, contrary to all appearances, he was still alive.

After listening to a message from a harried sounding Loki saying there was a problem with the “ _kúkalabbi_ Russians,” or something and that he would be dealing with until late, Nora took herself to Maria’s Package Goods bar and ordered delivery from the English bakery next door.  It had been a long time since she had taken herself to her local pub and she enjoyed gossiping with the bartenders and the delivery guy. 

She was just ordering her last beer, a lovely new IPA from Half Acre, when Marty-the-Barber came into the backroom covered in snow.

“What the fuck? I thought we weren’t getting any more of that shit this week,” Jennie moaned while pouring Nora’s pint.

“Just came out of nowhere, man,” Marty said, “I was half way here and BAM,” he slapped the bar for emphasis, sending snow everywhere and getting sworn at by everyone for it, “blizzard. Figured I would rather be stuck here.”

“Shit,” Nora muttered into her glass. She wouldn’t be making it back to Loki’s tonight.  “I’ll take a shot of Redbreast, too.”

 

Nora woke, her phone’s ring jerking her upright.  

She had been having a dark dream, something terrible and vast was looking at her, and wherever she went she could feel the eyes, old and sickening, touching her body, as if the thing that looked at her wanted to pick her up and break her open for a better look.

It took her a moment to focus on where she was and then on what had woken her. Her phone insistently played “Anti Love Song” at her.  Loki.  She snorted sleepily.  It was probably time to change that ringtone.  The heavy feel of the snow outside was making her want to hibernate.

“Treasure….” Loki’s voice was so deep and soft Nora felt like she could curl up in it. “Why aren’t you here?” Was there something a bit… sinister about that lift at the end of that question, or was it just the dream she had been having?  Probably the dream.

“Um, storm, I got stuck at home. What time is it?”

“Late, very late,” his tone was nearly hypnotic, “or early. I woke you, didn’t I?  I am so sorry…. Go back to sleep, sweet girl.”

“I - did you need something?” It was very hard to stay awake, Nora thought vaguely.  Late night calls always made her adrenaline flow and she could normally not fall back to sleep, but suddenly she felt very warm and calm.

“Go to sleep, Nora, go to sleep...I’ll come to you.”

“How?” she asked, her voice drowsy and faint even to her.

She laid back down, certain she was now asleep because she thought she heard him say, “It’s a beautiful night for a walk.”

 

Nora dreamed.

Loki was walking through the snow.

A huge storm was dying around him, the last wild swirls of white in the air parting for him, the icy black and pink sky framing him as he strode along the lake, and then past the enormous, temple-like Museum of Science and Industry, and into

the neighborhoods.

His was a loose swagger, walking stick in hand and open black coat blowing straight behind him casting a shadow like wings, but his hair lay perfectly on his broad shoulders, the cold wind not daring to muss him.

On a normal night some of these streets were among the most dangerous in the city, in the country even, but the storm kept everyone indoors. Not that it would have mattered.  It was Loki that she dreamt walking, not Magnus.

Lucky for the thugs they were all tucked in their beds.

And he sauntered, a faint, inscrutable sneer on his lips. Over miles and miles, a path cleared before him the whole way as he walked down the center of streets and through icy parks where snow-heavy trees bowed, seemingly to him.

Eventually Nora’s sleep became too deep for dreams.

 

Nora’s body ached.

She was hot everywhere, no longer warm, but hot and her flesh felt sore, like she had a fever. And her cunt throbbed, wet and wanting.  Not quite awake she put her fingers between her legs, trying to soothe herself, when a large hand covered them, gently pulling her hand away.  “No, no, you must wait…”

Loki’s breath was hot in her ear, murmuring to her softly, spooning her, making her feel safe. “Be patient, treasure.  I will take care of you.” 

“What-“ Nora started to say something, but then she felt him slide a long thigh between her legs, nestling it against her cunt. Ahhh, it felt so good, the pressure, and his hands were comforting her as he stroked his long palms along her back, her arms, her breast, her legs.  More hands than she could account for.  Had to be a dream. 

A hot, wet mouth pressed kisses on the side and back of her neck and warm hands cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples with soft and increasing pressure, she arched into them, wanting to grind on the beautiful leg that she was falling in love with, but unable to. When she arched cool lips brushed a moan from her mouth, and delicate fingers slid between the leg and her body, finding her clit and pinching it in time with the hands on her nipples.

There was something wrong, but as she tried to open her eyes Loki started whispering again, “Shhh, just relax, dream, accept it.”

Nora made a small whimper of protest as she was moved onto her back, cradled in Loki’s arms, his long legs on either side of her, while somehow still kissing her mouth and her shoulders.

Now she fought to wake up, some part of her brain knowing what was going on and knowing that she had not agreed to it, but it felt too right to really want him to stop. But still, “Stop, wait, we need to talk about this.”  Her voice sounded weak even to herself.

Loki turned her face away from where his double was kissing her, and stared into her eyes. There was just enough light from the soft morning sun reflecting on the snow 

on her window for her see his face. Somehow she knew this was the real him.  “Kiss me, treasure, let me love you.” 

His expression was as cold and haughty as she had ever seen it, his lip curled in a smirk, but there was a hitch in his voice, a vulnerability to the way his head tilted towards her. Yearning for her.

She kissed him, her hand cupping his jaw. His double waited, perfectly still. “Yes.” She whispered.

Loki bit her lips softly, and then along her ear, and finally buried his teeth in her shoulder as he had that one other time in New Orleans. That bite had haunted Nora’s fantasies ever since, but even as not shy about sex as she was, it had proved impossible for her ask him to do it again.

Now he held her in place while his copy worked his way down her body, and they both watched as he pushed her legs farther apart with his shoulders and buried his mouth in her cunt.

This wasn’t one of Loki’s virtuoso acts, tracing runes on her clit with his tongue, running arpeggios along her slit.

This was aggressive and methodical, he tongued deep into her, treating her cunt like he would her mouth. That tongue that she knew quite was suddenly seemingly longer and thicker than it should, than it could, be.  Deep in her, stroking her g-spot, making her want to push hard, making her want to fist his hair and grind.  But she couldn’t move.  Teeth.

She needed to come more than she could ever remember.

“How long were you playing with me before I woke up?” Nora sighed out.

Loki took her breasts in hand again, circling her nipples with the lightest and most frustrating touch. “Only an hour. Maybe two.” The double spoke so she was still held in place, but now she just needed that mouth back on her.

“Please…please. More.”

The double resumed, with a gleeful sneer, and moved deeper, finding her a-spot, and now she gushed around him, and Nora would swear she heard him drinking her.

“Ummmm….” Finally Loki released her, kissing her above exactly as below, and the double crudely jammed his thumb against her clit, giving her the grind she had been helplessly needing since she woke and she came, her legs wrapping around the copy’s head, humping against him wildly, Loki crying out into her mouth as if he was the one who had come.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. And the double was gone, and he had turned her over, and was stroking himself into her from behind, kissing the bite marks on her shoulder, crooning, “everything Nora, I want everything, don’t think you can ever hold anything back from me because I will dig into you and find it. Beautiful….” 

His words trailed off into nonsense or Asgardian.

“I don’t understa-“ Nora’s voice cut off in a cry as Loki jerked her hips up, thrusting deep enough that the pain sent her body into confused, sharp orgasm that seemed to last until springtime. She was barely aware when he came, she was so dazed.  His finish was businesslike, almost as if he was just coming because he had to and not because it especially mattered to him that he did.

And she fell asleep, nestled against his body.

 

Nora smelled breakfast.

She sat up stretching and smiling, for the first time in her life mildly embarrassed by a sexual escapade. It was as if the two of them had unlocked an accomplishment in a particularly dirty video game.

And Loki must have gone out to the store, she thought, sniffing, because she knew she didn’t have sausage or eggs. She sniffed again.  Or the ingredients for waffles in her house.

Walking to the shower, she idly looked at her phone.

Marissa had finally decided on grey for the bridesmaids’ dresses. Thank god.  It was almost peach.

The latest payment from the New Orleans Goblin Market had posted. She sent a quick confirmation receipt.

Her brother Sam was thinking of visiting sometime in March. Yay.

And there was a news alert. Overnight, taking advantage of the storm, thieves had successfully robbed the Art Institute.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you look up the lyrics for "Anti Love Song" by Betty Davis it is pretty much exactly how Nora was feeling through most of the fall. I only wish I had remembered it for one of the karaoke scenes. Oh well.


	6. All Profound Distraction Opens Certain Doors

“Nora!”

Magnus’s voice was loud, but Nora filtered it out as she hunched over her laptop, scanning for more stories on the theft.

“Nora!” Now it was annoyed and loud, but she didn’t hear it.  Not at all.  She also refused to hear the sound of his feet stomping around, swiftly opening and closing doors, muttering with increased irritation. 

Ah, a Vatican expert in art theft (?) has a theory about how it was that the guards at the Art Institute had been cleared of all wrong doing, but were still there that-

The door to the tiny room whipped open and a furious Magnus seethed over Nora where she sat cross-legged on the floor. “Hi, is it time to leave already?”

With an exasperated sound he reached down and lifted her, while grabbing her laptop to fold under his arm. “Yes, as you know.  And I know you could hear me calling you.  Only the bedrooms and bathrooms are sound-proofed.”  He hustled her into the foyer and into her coat, tying her scarf very firmly around her throat.  He would have put her mitten-gloves on her if she hadn’t grabbed them from him.

“I can dress myself!”

“I was in doubt, since you are acting like a child. Hiding in a closet.”  Even with Magnus’s pleasant face the angry set of his jaw was pure Loki.

“It was in the pantry, not a closet. Do you even know your way around your own home?”  Nora tried to retrieve her laptop, but Magnus held it above his head and out of her reach as he ushered her out of the condo.  “Now who’s acting like a fucking child?  I need that to finish the details for our arrival.”

Rudy started to give them both his usual cheery greeting, but seeing the weather was stormy, just hit the button for the lobby and tried to pretend he didn’t exist.

“I did it myself, Miss Walsh. Since you have been too busy obsessing over things that really have nothing to do with you.”  He answered in a clipped, bossy tone.

Nora rounded on the dicksmack masquerading as a man that shared the elevator with her (causing Rudy to step to the right so he was hidden behind Magnus’s broad shoulders), “Nothing to do with me? I am a citizen of this city, you fucking ass.  Those paintings were stolen from me!”  She jerked a thumb at her chest.  “ME!  And mine! There is hardly a kid in this city, no matter how poor, who hasn’t gone a field trip to Art Institute to see those paintings.  They are ours, something we all share, and something we all know.  It’s obscene at that you don’t understand that.  But I guess that someone who grew up with literally everything wouldn’t!”

Her tirade carried them to the lobby and out to the car where Nigel had already loaded their bags.

Without even looking at her Magnus sauntered at an infuriatingly slow pace to the car, “Do not think for a second that I don’t know what you are doing, even if you are unaware of it yourself.”

Nora made a noise that seemed impossible for someone with a human throat.

Nigel, deciding this was one of those times that Mr. Rasmussen would prefer to get the doors, jumped back into the driver’s seat and nearly broke his finger jamming down the button to raise the privacy window.

“What. Do. You. Think. I’m. Doing. You. Fucker?” Nora asked, twitching her head as she spoke, ignoring the door he held open for her.

Rolling his eyes in a gesture that could be seen from space, Magnus got in the car himself and pulled her in on top of him, slamming the door.

 

“Drive,” he commanded loudly enough to be heard through the partition, and then reached a gloved hand under his collar to remove the torc. Magnus’s weak human eyes had seen how white and drawn Nora was this morning.  With his own sight Loki could see ever bright red vein in her tired eyes, every thin, bloodless line around her pained mouth, as well as smelling the stink of dread rolling off of her.

Nora struggled to get off of his lap, but he held her in place, pressing his mouth to her temple, speaking directly to her skin.

“You are terrified of this trip. You thought that somehow, magically, one short little trip to a place you knew well and already loved might fix you.  It has not. And now for the first time since…since I nearly killed you,” he put a leather-gloved finger to her lips to stop her words, “you are going somewhere new.  Somewhere dangerous and unknown.  So you are distracting yourself by being tormented over this theft.  And doing a poor job of it.” 

“Because distracting you is my occupation.”

He clenched his fingers around her jaw and turned her to him, taking her, forcing his tongue deep into the coffee-flavored wetness of her mouth. He stroked and teased her there, and where one leather-covered hand found its way under her coat and sweater and shirt to caress her back with soothing circles, while the other easily undid the buttons on her jeans so it could find its way to the place in the of the realms that was most sacred to him.

“Tormenting you is also my work.” Although he could not feel how wet Nora was because of the gloves, the ease with which he toyed with her clit, and slid their black-clad length into her, told him she was very aroused. 

So did the small, huffing noises she made. Loki caught each one and swallowed them, tasting the pheromones and the sweetness.

Now Nora turned so she straddled him, still mouth to mouth, her hips undulating so she worked herself on his hand, and she reached down to take him out. She had not removed her half-gloves, and the contrast of her cool, smooth fingers and the softness of the fuzzy wool made Loki moan and cant towards the feeling.

Still kissing him, Nora whispered, “I want to fuck you, but my jean-,” her needy tone turned into a laugh as she found herself pants-less, but still wearing her boots and socks.

“I know you hate it when your feet are cold,” Loki murmured, lifting her eager hips so she could teased the head of his cock along her slit, and then slowly, as if they had all of the time in the world and not another half hour or so, lowered her until he was seated so deeply she gasped at the pressure and the bite.

One hand on his shoulder, the other holding a fistful of his hair, Nora worked herself up and down on Loki’s cock, slow and steady, with a thrust to her hips at the end of each downward motion, her clit dragging through his pubic hair, making her chew on her lips.

The perfect, smooth heat of her cunt, clenching him as if it would never, could never, let him go, and the snarl of her fingers in his hair, and the abstract bliss of Nora’s face were overwhelming and Loki knew he deserved none of them. Not after what he had done.

What he had done again.

Hurting her, even if that was not the intent. Betraying her trust.

How many times had it been now, that he had hurt his Nora, his treasure? Three, no, four with the business with the Roxxon settlement.

But this was worse than the other times, because he knew-

“Pull harder,” he ordered.

Nora wrapped his hair around her fist and yanked until his throat was bared to her teeth.

For the first time since he had been a mere boy Loki came before his partner did, at least without selfish denial being his intent.

As the waves of need and want and pleasure and darkness and Nora overwhelmed him he had barely enough presence of mind to reach between them, hooking a leather-bound finger around her clit and twisting it in the way that he knew left her most helpless to her desire, and she came with him, as they fell into each other.

“I’m glad we did that now,” she said, “I’ve never been interested in joining the Mile High Club.”

Loki laughed against her hair. “The flight is close to twelve hours. How patient do you think I can be?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have lied about all of the chapter titles being movie quotes, sorry.


	7. You Are So GOING To Hel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to part one of a two part epic cross-over with the brilliant, talented, and wonderful in every way Caffiend's This Is SO Not Going To Happen, which you can find here -
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/8575273/chapters/19660963
> 
> If you haven't read her Maura and Thomas stories you owe to yourself. If you haven't read any of her other works, you are letting yourself down.

Loki had always known that it would only be a matter of time before he lost  Nora.  But, he mused as he walked through the cool alleys and avenues of the St. Petersburg Goblin Market, he had not thought it would be literally.

Where had she gotten to?

They had almost finished their short trip to Russia (after he had assured her over and over and over and over that no he was not doing any work for Putin.  Ever.  He really promised.  Really.  Cross his genitals and hope to become flaccid.) and he was just doing a final walk-thru of the market before, hopefully, whisking Nora off for an evening of Tsarist decadence: caviar, near frozen vodka, champagne, and cake.  The kind of thing he could never get her to agree to back into Chicago but that he possibly could talk her into here in the interest of being ‘old school.’

Not that Loki would actually say those words.  His mouth would rebel at forming them.

Besides which, Nora owed him a night of luxurious sybaritism after he had indulged her by spending their free time walking around the otherwise beautiful and romantic city using her well-worn copy of The 900 Days as a guide book.  She had actually hopped up and down on the shore of Lake Ladoga, reading to him a passage about the caravan of trucks bringing supplies to the besieged city.

When he asked her why, Nora shrugged, “These people were fucked by their own government AND the Nazi’s and they still managed to survive, well, some of them, and say ‘screw you’ to everyone.  I like that a lot.”

There had been women on Asgard, and Vanaheim, and just about everywhere else in the less barbaric parts of the Nine Realms, who would have given their best friend’s lives for Loki to show the slightest interest in wooing them _after_ he had bedded them, and Nora would rather visit the Monument To Heroic Defenders of Leningrad and even get a bit weepy while there.  

It was as if the universe were punishing him for _something_.  

Still, tonight would be different.  If he could just find her.

Had it been even a few weeks ago he might have worried, but Nora had turned out be a ready student of the magical realities around them, even if she was not magical herself.  And the management of this Market had made it clear to all that she was to be considered protected.  

As it was Loki wandered amongst the tea-and-sugar scented kiosks and shops of the large and ancient market, trying to pretend to be less anxious than he felt.   Nora was if anything too sensible, but Russia was dangerous and she did not speak the language.  He wondered if she had found her way back to the snack shop run by the kikimora where they had lunched at the day before.  The foxlike, stick-figure creature had made some chicken soup that Nora had talked about all night, so he could imagine her trying to find her way back there one last time while he had been distracted by a display of ensorcelled cavalry swords and pikes.

What could he say?  Sometimes he still longed for those simpler solutions to his problems.

For a moment he thought he saw her sitting at one of the tables in the square where the gadalka, the fortune tellers, gathered.  But Nora would never patronize one of them, and when he looked again he saw that the woman was even taller than Nora, and her curly hair was black and long. When she turned slightly in her seat he saw that her face was exceptionally lovely, much more so than his treasure if he were being objective, which Loki never saw any point to being.

She was also dressed in a stunning, and stunningly short, red silk dress that showed off her magnificent legs and breasts.  

And her collar….

Loki chuckled to himself.  This beauty was definitely NOT Nora.  

But still there was something about her… not her body language, which was that of someone trained to kill and capable of it.  Nor her voice, as her accent was clearly Irish, but something.  The angle of her jaw, the tilt of her nose, the arch of her brow…. He could not put his finger on it, but there was something...

No matter.  He started to move away when he heard her raise her voice, “I have paid you!  More than plenty, I might add!  Now either you tell me what has become of those lasses or God help you!”  She said, rising up threateningly.   

The gadalka was trying to explain, in broken English and a touch of what sounded like very bad Gaelic indeed that the monetary payment was not the issue.  She required an additional, magical, recompense.  

The furious beauty evidently had no idea what she was being told.  Somehow a civilian had wandered into their little world.  

Loki was not sure why he felt compelled to step in.  Maybe it was because the woman did remind him of Nora in some obscure way.  Or because it would be something that Nora would do herself.  Or even more likely, because there were a few words that were being tossed around in regard to the ‘lasses’ she was looking for, words like ‘pedophile,’ and ‘trafficking,’ that offended even Loki’s suspect morality.

“Perhaps I might be of assistance, my formidable paragon?”  He said in Irish, stepping to the table.

The woman stopped her increasingly outraged rant at the ever-shrinking fortune teller, and stared at him, her mouth open just a bit.  Which was rather fetching, actually.  

The gadalka threw her hands up, “Zduhać, help me with this madwoman.”

“I-“ the woman started to speak in Gaelic, but then switched to English, “I’m more than able to see to myself, thank you.”

Loki put up a hand.  “I would never doubt it, however, I believe that this is a … cultural misunderstanding.  Allow me.”  He turned to the fortune teller, switching to Russian.  “You know who I am, yes?”  The woman nodded vigorously, knocking her very unappetizing wig askew.  “Then please know that I would consider it a personal favor if you were to help this lovely visitor to our little, secret world.  And that if you do not I would consider it a personal insult.”

There was an envelope in the beauty’s hands and a “Closed For Lunch” sign on the booth before Loki could finish his smile.

Maura stared up at the man, every bit as annoyingly tall as her Thomas. "Thank you?" Ignoring his charming smile and impeccably white teeth, the girl's agent instincts zeroed in on his clear green eyes. Beautiful to be sure, but a rotating emotional kaleidoscope of guarded, assessing and then- as he saw her scrutiny- soothing. "Dare I ask what you said to the women to make her disappear so quickly?" She looked down at the bulging envelope that could contain the key to Siobhan's freedom.

Elegantly waving away her questions with an expensively suited arm, Loki returned to his most charming self. "May I escort you to the street? The Market's labyrinthine presentation can become so...distracting."

"The only distraction here is your attempt to...well...distract me," laughed Maura. "I must find my partner before I leave, but thank you." She flushed slightly as his knowing gaze swept over her platinum choker and turned to go.

"As it happens..." that smooth, cultured voice spoke from behind her, "I am also seeking my associate. Shall we search together?"

Maura carried her own store of useful expressions, like the one of disarming innocence shining from her big green eyes as she turned to Loki again. The man was clearly Someone of Importance in this market. A bit of conversation could prove useful. "That would be lovely."

 

"Excuse me, darling. Might I ask a favor?"

Nora rolled her eyes. 'Really? Darling? Those British think they can-' The tall man stepped in front of her before she could finish her scornful inner monologue. For a moment, she thought Loki might be trying out one of his new incarnations on her. This man's hair and eyes were darker than Magnus and his ginger-blonde coloring, but the rest of him was strikingly similar. Folding her arms, Nora replied, "Fine. I'll bite. What do you need?"

The man chuckled, not at all put off by her stern expression. "My...girlfriend wasn't happy with my choice for a winter coat and hat here in St. Petersburg-"

"-Fur." Nodded Nora, "Am I right?"

His dark brow rose with appreciation, "Got it in one. There was some lively discussion about Russian trapping and animal farming methods, punctuated by her effort to throw said coat out the car window." The man paused as Nora laughed, but took it in stride. "So I have a girlfriend in a flimsy silk dress and a temperature outside these doors of approximately -12c? You are close to her height and figure, so would you...?"

Nora shrugged. "Why not? It looks as if I have some time to kill before my boss is finished downstairs."

His dark brows rose. "Ah. You've been to the Market, then?" He picked out a dark red coat and held it near Nora, looking from the garment to her, then shaking his head. "Fascinating place, but a bit more...occult than I'd expected."

"It depends on what you're shopping for." Nora answered cryptically. Three clothing selections later, they both agreed on a simple black cashmere coat with a thicker wool lining, along with a fluffy set of earmuffs.

"Earmuffs?" He fingered them doubtfully.

"She'll either love them or hate them," Nora said encouragingly, "so you have a 50/50 shot."

The exit from the Market downstairs led directly to the shop doors where they'd been searching for winter outwear, and they both hesitated as the man accepted the bag and his receipt. "Since neither mine nor yours has left, shall we brave the Market again, darling?"

Stifling a chuckle at the "darling" that had become more entertaining than offensive, Nora agreed. "Why not? I'm Nora, by the way."

Taking her hand to kiss the back of it in a dashing sort of way, the man smiled. He wasn't one to touch a stranger, but there was something about the girl...not her stylish bob of brown hair, but something about the way her tea-colored eyes lit up when she laughed. It seemed so familiar. "A pleasure, Nora, I'm Thomas." Taking her elbow, Thomas nodded to the dark stairs. "Down we go."

 

So typical.

She spotted the two of them half-way across the little open square where blanket vendors were selling books and enchanted tools.

Nora had only left Loki maybe twenty minutes before, trying to find the soup creature, and already he had managed not only to find the best looking woman in the Market, but one of the only ones that could make Nora feel short.  

She wondered if she was another attempted ‘gift’ from the Market Boyars.  The last one had been waiting in their hotel room when they got back from the Hermitage the night before, kneeling next to the fireplace, naked except for high-heels and an environmentally unsafe amount of self-tanner.

At least this one was quite elegant.  And capable of facial expressions, based on how hard she was laughing at whatever Loki had just said.

The sound of that laugh, musical, with just a touch of snorting, caused her handsome new friend-cum-Bond Villain Thomas to stop.  The blandly annoyed look on his face should not have been frightening, but something about his whole charming air changed so completely that Nora could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Maura.”  He said it in a conversational tone, but the beautiful girl, clearly attuned to his voice, heard him anyway, her smile dimming at his expression.

Loki followed his companion’s gaze, and even from ten feet away Nora knew that behind Magnus’s pleasant and open smile he was giving his most crazy eyed look to where her hand was resting on Thomas’s impeccably suited arm.

Well, sigh.  

 

Loki was willing to admit, to himself alone of course, that a small part of his interest in assisting the lovely and lethal Maura was his hope to see just the tiniest flash of jealousy in Nora’s eyes when they finally ran across her.  

Which was why it was so very, _very_ disagreeable of her to be walking blithely along, chatting in such a companionable way with a tall, handsome man.  A man who might, in the right light, from the right angle, and under the right circumstances be handsomer than Magnus.  

A man who was incontestably murderous and whose shoulder was brushing Nora’s.

At the same moment that all of this was occurring to Loki, Nora’s dangerous friend caught sight of _him_ walking with the delectable Maura.  

Ah, the boyfriend.

A displeased, no-doubt armed, quite dangerous boyfriend.

Nora, aware that there was suddenly a great deal of tension, started walking faster towards them, using a bit of her office fast talk to try and distract both of them.  Maura, without seeming to change her body language, went on point, her mind clearly running scenarios about what could happen and how best to handle damage control.

“Your special friend,” Loki murmured very softly to the girl, “he wouldn’t harm Nora if he were upset about my presence with you, would he?”

“What? No!”  Maura answered, startled and a bit annoyed.

“Oh good, certain kinds of men can be so unpredictable when their mates are involved.”  Men such as myself, he thought.

“Hey!”  Nora said, overly brightly, “Your girlfriend found my boss!  Isn’t that a coincidence?  Well, it probably isn’t.”  As she prattled she led Thomas over to the other pair, who were talking softly.  Which was making Thomas ever more…whatever he was right now.

Nora didn’t feel short very often, but right now she felt like the only tiny, normal-looking woman in the Valley of the Giants with Exceptional Bone Structure as she stood with the other three.  

“Your name is Maura?  Mine’s Nora.  How weird is that.  Probably not weird at all, actually.  Thomas, this is my boss, Magnus Rasmussen.  Magnus, this is Thomas.  He needed to buy Maura a coat.  That isn’t his last name as far as I know, just a statement of fact.”

She threw the other girl a look, hoping for an assist in defusing a little of the testosterone that was currently poisoning the air around them.

Surprisingly, Loki took it on himself to lighten the mood, making Magnus smile genially, “Good to meet you.?” he said, extending a hand towards the other man.

While what he wanted to say was, “Now, Nora, step away from the Apex Predator so I can make friends and ask who his tailor is and then kill him.”  Instead he extended a hand and a very large smile to his fellow monster.

Like the clever beast that he clearly was, Thomas smiled too.  Handsomely, the bastard.  “Laing, Thomas Laing.  I see you have rescued Maura from the clutches of the fortune tellers in this place.”  He made an airy gesture to the Market as a whole.  A gesture that seemed to imply, “I am an oblivious, privileged ass who dismisses things I don’t understand,’ but clearly was telling Loki, “I am aware that this is a dangerous place where most normal people are out of their depth, but I am not a normal person.  But you should feel free to think I am so you will taken aback when I de-liver you later.”

“Least I could do, old man,” Loki clapped Thomas on the shoulder, not too hard.  “And I see you found my wayward assistant.  Honestly,” he leaned in a conspiratorial, ‘just-us-boys’ way, “she is very good at networking, but she could get lost in a shoebox.”

Thomas was, at this point, only half paying attention to Loki.  Which was INFURIATING.  However, what he was paying attention to was the lanky Maura, who was ignoring both of them in favor of staring very strangely at Nora.  Not strangely in a “well, this is going to be an athletic afternoon” way, but in a way that even Loki couldn’t quite name.  

Almost wistfully, but not quite.

Nora, being as usual oblivious to anyone’s response to her, was clearly more worried about the potential blood storm between him and the _oh-so-handsome_ Thomas.

Maura and Thomas exchanged a few tense, coded words at that point, while he helped her into a very nice coat.  

Not as nice as Nora’s, but nice enough.

“So-“  Loki started to speak again, when Nora jumped in.

“Hey, boss?  What time is it back home?”

“Ten-thirtyish.  AM.  Why?”  He looked down at Nora, who looked painfully dainty.

“Ha, well you said I’m done for the day, so it is time for day drinking in Chicago!  My favorite.”

“But it’s evening here.”

“Doesn’t count.”  She turned to Maura, who quickly revived her game face, “Hey, you’re Irish, right?  I bet you would be down for a few pints of whatever crap beer they have in …”  Nora turned in place until she spotted a likely business, “that place?”

Then she offered Maura her arm.

To Thomas’s shock, and Loki’s amusement, she took it and the two women headed away from them.

 

Managing a quick stab of hero worship and jealousy, Maura took Nora’s arm, linking it with hers and smiling at the other woman. “The coat you’ve chosen for me is a vast improvement over the previous one, Nora. I appreciate your excellent, non-fur related taste in outerwear.” She’d instantly taken a liking to this woman, whose quick wit instantly disarmed the posturing of the two uber-Alpha males. Leaning in again, she murmured, “Thank you. Based on how the tendons in Thomas’s wrist were popping out from that handshake, we were in for a long evening.” Involuntarily, they both looked behind them to see their men gazing at them with varying expressions of incredulity and beguilement.

Nora not quite concealed her eye-roll as she turned back, still heading for the bar that promised nothing but endless varieties of vodka and the grudging offer of a couple varieties of dispirited-sounding beer. “Maybe they’ll both relax if we can get a couple of shots into them. Or a bottle. Each.”

“Spirytus.” Maura said suddenly.

“Did you just sneeze?” Nora asked solicitously.”Your Thomas said you’d tried to go coatless after seeing that fur monstrosity he’d wrapped around you-”

She liked the happy, musical laugh from her new friend. Nora suspected she didn’t laugh as freely as this too often. “No. Spirytus- it’s a Polish vodka and it’s a lethal 96% pure alcohol. If that can’t make these two start singing singing filthy limericks, nothing can. You and I might have to settle for some off-brand German beer, but at least they might tone down the testosterone long enough for us to have supper. You said you were from Chicago?”

As it happened, their competing Alphas easily finished off the first bottle of Spirytus, then Thomas regally gestured for another. While there was a respectable litter of beer bottles between Nora and Maura, they’d spent most of the last ten minutes watching the men determinedly damage their livers in the name of “If I’m not allowed to murder you, I’ll at least out-drink you.”

“Thomas,” Maura’s voice was sweet and composed, “could we order a bite to eat? All this beer…” she waved at Nora, “I think we need a sandwich or something.”

Nora was torn between the deep insult of Maura inferring that a South Side girl couldn’t hold her beer, with admiration of her new friend’s deft solution to keeping Thomas and Loki from drinking enough to turn their bloodstream into a flammable substance. “A good idea!” She urged heartily, “And there’s a cafe nearby that serves chicken soup that’s...well...I love it so much I’d dab it behind my ears like perfume.” The Irish girl’s overly uproarious laughter told Nora that a bite to eat would indeed be a good idea.

Admittedly, Maura’s laughter was a little over the top, but she’d been getting a headache from darting her eyes between Thomas and the handsome Norwegian. And once seated at the cramped table with a bowl of something golden and heavenly-smelling in front of her, she was prepared to follow Nora anywhere. Glancing over at Thomas, she smothered a smile to see him brush off the chair and lay his coat over the seat before settling himself. There’d been a brief flurry of angling around their new friends for the right seating to keep their backs to the wall and facing the door, and she narrowed her eyes at Loki’s thinly veiled amusement.”What is that, Magnus?” Maura tilted her head, watching him dab a little sour cream atop something encased in gelatinous cabbage.

“Golubtsy,” he murmured, eyeing the first bite with stately pleasure, “shredded beef wrapped in boiled cabbage served over red peppers.”

“You either love it, or you’re a normal human being, with taste buds,” Nora interjected.

Thomas raised a brow over his knish and continued to press Loki about his consulting interests in St. Petersburg. The man was no _retail_ consultant, that was certain. He’d idly considered arms dealing and moved on to art theft as a mutual squeal from the women pulled him from his speculation. “Darling? What has you so excited?” The girl’s face was flushed with happiness, and he realized with a pang that he’d not seen that expression in a long time.

“It seems, Thomas, that Nora and I are, what- second cousins, or third?” She glanced back to Nora’s grinning face, and the mysterious similarity between them suddenly made sense. Turning to the men, they leaned forward in the same eager way, green and gold eyes alight.

“So, my grandfather John moved to Chicago back in ‘18 to work with Pullman- he built train cars- while his brother- Maura’s grandfather- moved his family to Belfast.” Nora’s arm linked with Maura’s again as they stepped from the cafe, after giving the gaunt owner a cheery wave goodbye. “I wonder why our grandparents didn’t keep in contact?” Nora frowned.

Maura tried to conceal her shudder, passing it off as a chill as she felt Thomas put a comforting hand on the small of her back. “You must believe me, you wouldn’t have wanted them to.”

 

The car provided for them by the Boyars was magically shielded, so Nora was expecting Loki to shed his torc for a quick kiss on the way back to the suite.  He did not, choosing to stare out into the frozen night.

Sigh. For the third time today.

“You’re angry because I invited them back to the room, aren’t you?”

Not looking at her, “Our last evening in one of the few properly romantic places on your grim little planet is going to be spent chatting with the neighbors.  Why would that anger me?”  His tone was idle and bored, so he was genuinely angry.

Nora slid over next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder, “I doubt they are going to stay long.  I heard Maura say something about they had to finish their business tonight, that things were already taking too long.  Once they leave I will let you do dreadful things to me,” she brushed her nose along the underside of Magnus’s jaw, “illegal things,” her lips didn’t touch his ear, but she was close enough for her breath to stir his curls, “things only you could possibly do.”

Shuddering, Loki ripped off the torc and shoved Nora down onto the seat, tongue-fucking her mouth while delicately running just the tips of his fingers under her blouse and along her ribs.  “Then let the pedophiles beware the tigerish  wrath of your warlike cousin,” he purred against her skin, having managed to unbutton her without Nora noticing.

She pushed up on her elbows, “Pedophiles?” She said coldly.

“I take it that word has an extinguishing quality on your ardor,” Loki sighed, sitting up and putting the torc back on while Nora buttoned and adjusted herself back to the general neighborhood of respectability.  “Yes.  Apparently lovely Maura and her venomous mate are seeking out a group of pedophiles, or at least those businessmen who supply their needs.  I am sure they will do something terrible to them once they find them.  While I doubt Thomas lacks imagination when it comes to inflicting misery and violence, I would be much more afraid of Maura.  She’s god-touched, and not by one of the nicer ones.”

“God-touched?  Thomas _is_ handsome, but-”  Nora asked.

Loki gave her a disgusted look, “Not in the way you are, my treasure.  I am not exactly sure what happened to her, but she smells of battlefields and flowing water.  Not the French perfume her doting lover probably prefers.”  He raised an eyebrow at her, “The women in your family must be deistic catnip.”

Nora snorted, but now she was the one brooding and staring out the window.  “How do you know what they’re up to?  About the raping bastards and all of that?”

Loki told her how he had found Maura with the fortune teller/information broker, the incident with the insufficient baksheesh, and what he had managed to see of the papers before they had been tucked away.

“Huh.” Nora smiled at her reflection in the window.  She wondered if her new-found cousin might need a little more divine intervention in her life.

 

“This is a bad idea.” Thomas was looking out the tinted window of their car as Maura slid across the seat.

“She’s my cousin, Thomas. She’s really the only family I have...right now.” She finished lamely, trying not to think about her sisters, which would inevitably make her sad, which would then proceed to unreasoning anger because fury was always better than the grief of watching the girls grow up via a long-term surveillance lens. Maura felt his gloved hand slide over her jaw and turn her to meet his serious gaze.

“Darling, I know.” Thomas soothed, “And that’s the only reason we’re meeting them at the hotel- ironic, of course, that they happen to be staying at the Grand Hotel Europe as well.”

Slinging one long leg over his, Maura settled against him, watching their poor driver Mr. Lashklov carefully keeping his eyes forward. “Are you suspecting this is some kind of a setup, or a trap?”

Thomas frowned, idly taking her wrist and running his warm lips over the thin skin there, enjoying her little shiver. “At first. It did seem a tad miraculous that we could find your long-lost cousin from Chicago in the middle of St. Petersburg.”

“True,” Maura agreed, “but even for us and our past, as a setup that’s a longshot. What changed your mind?”

Thomas was leaning over her now, one hand pulling her hips to slide flat on the leather seat as his dark figure hovered over her. ”Your cousin,” he said, giving a brief chuckle, “it takes just a moment in her company to know that Nora is completely, unalterably authentic.” Making a circular gesture with his hand at Mr. Lashklov to “take the long way back,” he pressed his lips to Maura’s, loving as always her happy sigh.

 

The Presidential Suite at the Grand Hotel walked the line between outrageously and embarrassingly decadent without quite falling off either side.  Nora hated everything about it, except the size of the bed, the well-stocked kitchen, and the view.   

“Yeah, Mr. Rasmussen wanted the Despotic Potentate Suite, but they are re-gilding the bidet and it won’t be ready until next Tuesday.” She said to Thomas and Maura, handing her coat to Charles.

“I think Miss Walsh needs a snack, Charles. She has her low-blood sugar snark on.” Magnus sighed, gesturing for their guests to be comfortable in the sitting room. “And you might as well open some champagne.”

He gave Nora a look when he was sure that Thomas and Maura were safely in the other room, “I had been planning on drinking that off of your body, but no. it’s family reunion time instead.”

Nora shot him back a look and said, “That’s what you thought.  Champagne is cold.  And when it dries it’s probably itchy.  Plus, I think we should help them.  Or you should help them, since I don’t think I have a lot to offer in the area of dealing with mystical criminal information brokers.”

“Treasure-“ he stepped close and started to whisper when she cut him off.

“Don’t start.  I am getting tired of not being able to be open about being with you when we are around other people.  I know,” she put up a hand to stop his protests, “I know it is for my safety.  God forbid that interstellar assassins or magical spies find out I’m your girlfriend, but it’s… I don’t know… lonely being out with other people and seeing them holding hands and knowing that you are right there and I can’t do the same thing.  When we were sitting there and Thomas put his arm around Maura’s shoulders, don’t you ever wish-“

“OF COURSE I DO!” He shouted. Nora looked towards the other room, certain that he had been heard.  “Of course I do.” He said again, more softly. “Every moment I could be touching you but am not is an agony for me, Nora. I would have your hand in mine, my arm in yours, at all times.”

Nora had a thought.

“I do not like that look, I know it well.” Loki said.  Nora was considering something.  Her chin was tilted slightly to the right, and her lips were pursed.  It was her “coming up with an idea Loki will hate” look.

“We, well, _you_ , should help them.  And I think you should tell them who you are.”

“What?” Nora truly needed a snack.  And a nap.

“Hear me out.  I think Thomas is very, very on edge about the fact that you know so much about their business, and I think if we offer your assistance not only will he not take it, but they will be out of here before you can use that silver tongue to persuade them otherwise.  But if you show them _your_ secret-“

“My secret is many orders of magnitude worse than their’s, Nora.”

“Not to them.  And not to the many international agencies and criminals who probably want them both dead.  And if you do it, I can sit on your lap while you work out your plans.”  She practically batted her eyelashes at him.

“Do you think that is going to be enough inducement for me to trust my safety and yours to a very dangerous man and his equally if not more dangerous, albeit somewhat less sinister lady friend?”

“Possibly.  I think Thomas has already guessed that we’re, you know...fucking, so he can already use me against you if he wants to. It would make me so happy to just have someone we could be honest about this with.  And you can’t tell me you don’t want to see the looks on their faces.”  She looked at him, her eyes so bright at the thought of not hiding, if only for one night.

And that was that.  Nora had not truly been happy in days.  Not since the morning that the Art Institute theft had been discovered.

And, yes, he did relish the thought of making the handsome, flirtatious, so perceptive Thomas spit take his _Salon Le Mesil Blanc de Blanc_.

“Let’s join our guests, then.  Time for party games.”

Maura and Thomas were standing arm in arm, admiring the view of the Nevsky Prospekt at night, sipping champagne.  There were a number of little snacks on the table near the low, silk upholstered couches, and Loki insisted on making a plate for Nora before he got down to the unnerving business at hand.

Nora took the plate with ill grace and proceeded to eat some very fine caviar and rather perfect salmon as if they were tuna salad.  The pre-made kind that came in a little can accompanied by three saltines and a plastic spreader.

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she slowed down begrudgingly.  Now taking her time the taste actually registered with her, and she made a slight moan with her eyes closing sleepily at the salty Sevruga with its bitter orange and sea scents.  He knew that Nora would like it more than the sweeter, larger Beluga.

Loki was mildly jealous of the tiny, pearl spoon Nora fed herself from.

Yes.  Right now he very much wanted to take his treasure to bed, but since she was not allowing that, having her on his lap was the next best option.

“Please, let us all sit, and be comfortable.”

When Maura and Thomas had taken their seats and had let Charles serve them, Loki nodded to his valet, who stood for a moment behind the pair with a “and will I be having a snack later, sir?” look on his face.

Loki dismissed him with a wave.

Once Charles had left, Loki stretched and removed Magnus’s suit jacket, draping it over a chair.  “That’s better.”  He sat, and loosened his tie and collar. “But not perfect.”  He slid the torc into view, seeing Maura’s eyes widen in curiosity and Thomas’s narrow in concern.  Good predators always know when the terrain is changing.  “If you don’t mind?  Don’t be concerned Miss MacLaren, I do not expect you to join me.” He smiled pleasantly, ignoring the low growl from the throat of Thomas as Maura grasped her collar involuntarily.

With a slide of his hand he removed the torc and changed.  Not that he needed to remove the torc to do so, but Loki could never resist a bit of theatricality.

“Now, treasure, you promised me a reward for being so…forthcoming.” Loki tapped his thigh, smiling, and staring at Thomas the entire time.

Nora sighed and slid easily onto his lap, and then quietly sighed again in a different way.

Loki gestured towards the table, “More salmon?”

 

“You must be joking.” Thomas’ voice was cold, but composed. “Is this a little something you picked up from from the Goblin Market? Some sort of extremely sophisticated superhero costuming?” Loki couldn’t help but preen at the other man’s “super,” rather than “villain” slip of the tongue. But looking at Maura really cemented his pleasure in the unveiling. She was gazing at him, her expression rapturous.

“I used to read all kinds of intelligence briefings about you- after the Battle of New York?” Out of the corner of his eye, Loki could see Nora’s smile slip, but she quickly put her “game face” back on. “All the things you could do with that staff- the power of the Infinity Stone- every government would have emptied their treasury to acquire that…” Maura paused, picturing some of the photos from the UN documents. “And your battle strategy! The flanking assault on-”

“Maura darling,” Thomas interrupted quickly, “I’m certain the Myth and Legend seated before us has heard such things before.” What he was unwilling to say was that he _hated_ hearing them from the admiring, full lips of his Maura-girl.

“Ah, but one never tires…” Loki smiled graciously.

Nora shifted strategically on his lap to bring his attention decisively back to matters at hand. Also, to his uncomfortably swelling cock under her warm ass. “Yes, but the point being...we get it- we really do. Having to hide so much and being so goddamned careful, so-”

Maura leaned forward suddenly, putting Loki on alert. He relaxed back as the girl hugged Nora, smiling giddily. “A night for revelations, isn’t it?” She sat utterly still for a moment, enjoying the feeling of Nora’s warm arms around hers. For the first time in her life, Maura was simply embraced for as long as she liked, until they broke apart by mutual agreement, chuckling at each other. Their laughter died off as they watched the rigid form of Thomas, still glaring at Loki and furious to have Maura so close to a man (Creature? Invader? Apex Predator God with Daddy Issues?) who could crush her skull with a glance. He realized that it had a long time since he’d worried any man could overcome his girl’s brutal martial arts skills. Finally pursing his lips, Thomas put his hand out. “Thomas Pine, a pleasure.”

Leaning forward with a creak from his leather armor, Loki’s cool hand met his. “Loki Friggasson, of Asgard.” Behind him, Nora was mouthing “Bond, James Bond,” to Maura, but but he’d address her impertinence some other time.

While Maura was conferring with Loki on the setup of the nightclub owned by the broker they would be attempting to ‘reason’ with, Nora decided to slip onto the balcony and burn a cigarette.  The Nevsky Prospekt was a tide of golden lights and the sky was the blackest she had ever seen.  She leaned far out and smiled at the stars.

 

It was a good night, if a bit nerve-wracking.

“Aren’t you freezing out here?” Thomas’s cultured baritone came from behind her.

Nora pointed to a crystal dome on the table.  Under it was what appeared to be a small pile of feathers glowing deep orange and yellow and giving off an enormous amount of heat.  “Firebird feathers.  Sort of a magical space heater.”

Thomas circled the table, staring at the dome and then smiling at her, “Amazing, but you seem to take these things quite in stride.  I take it you are also of a magical…bent?”

Nora snorted.  “No.  Me?”

“While we were in the Market you were treated with a certain deference by the various vendors.  And that creature brought you some form of tribute.”

“Soup.  She was bringing me soup. Which, if I am honest, is exactly the kind of tribute I would ask for if I were in a tribute receiving position.  I get the deference because I am connected to you-know-Who.  Who will be the first one to tell you in great detail that I am about as magical as a pair of really, really unmagical socks.”

“But no one knows who he is.”

“No, but they all _sense_ something about him.  In New Orleans they think he is an avatar of Carrefour, or the younger version Papa Legba.  Here they think he might be Morozko, who is basically a scary version of Jack Frost. Which I plan on giving him shit about forever.”

“And in Chicago?”

“They know he’s extremely rich.  So if I have an in with someone that scares the shit out of everyone, then they want to treat me nice, too.”

“But you do know a great deal about this world, don’t you?”

“All of it learned on the fly.  I’ve only been working for him, hell, I have only known who he is, since September.”

Thomas took a sip of his drink, “Really? And who did you think he was prior to that?”

Nora angled over next to him and getting her phone out, “He is going to be so annoyed I showed this to you,” and pulled up the only picture of Eddie she hadn’t deleted in a snit months before.  They were at the Temple and he was talking to Loretta about the best way to cook a picnic ham.  “That’s who I thought he was.”

For the second time that night Thomas nearly aspirated champagne.

“Now, I _must_ know.  How does a lovely girl like you-“

“-end up with the God of Home Planet Invasion?  Trust me, I am not sure how it happened myself.  After I almost died in New York you would think-“

“Wait.” Thomas set his glass down with a firm click, “You were in New York?  During the Battle of New York?  You nearly died and _yet_ you still-“

Nora laughed again, and shrugged, “Some of us are just more forgiving than others.  If you fall in love with the wrong guy, you just have that much more to forgive.  Not that I expect you to know about that sort of thing….”

Thomas may have blushed a bit, or it might have been the glow from the feathers.  “Quite.”

“Anyway, you remember the whole story about Thor being exiled here by their dad because he was a brat and of course you do, because everyone remembers.  Anyway, Loki is WAY more of a brat than Thor so he gets exiled, and gets his looks and powers and godhood taken away from him.  And made into that!  You’re vain man –“  Thomas gave her an expressive eyebrow, “sorry, bud, but anyone whose pants are tailored _that much_ and _that tight_ is just plain vain – so you can imagine how the vainest of the vain dealt with that.”  She gestured to poor Eddie’s non-beautiful self.

“And then, to add insult to injury, he gave him a job in a customer service department.  MY customer service department.  And we were sort of enemies, and then sort of friends, and then I might have fallen in love with him, and he might have accidentally, with some help, have caused an explosion and a fire in the office that I might have run into to help people and that body might have had a heart-attack and died.”

Nora lit another cigarette.  Talking about this made her anxious.

Thomas’s takeaway was not what she expected, “You ran into a fire?  Are you mad?”  His sounded genuinely upset at the thought.

“There were people.”

“There were people?”

“Yes?  People.  In a fire.  That needed help?”

“You aren’t safe on your own, are you?”

Nora shrugged.  “You think that’s dangerous?  Try having outdoor sex with a depressive frost giant during a historic cold wave.”

“Nora has actually broken off and eaten a piece from a cookie I had just placed in my mouth, so she had no sense of self-preservation at all,” Loki said, crossing to their table and leaning over it, smiling lazily into Nora’s eyes and making her very much wish that their new friends would decide to go home.  Now.  “She also lacks any filter tonight.  You would be very put out if I were to share our personal business, treasure, would you not?”

“Yup.”

“So she is also a hypocrite,” he murmured fondly, leaning in to place a kiss on her temple.  “My perfect match.”

 

Maura was stewing over the treacherous quadruped’s half-information after combing through the documents the gadalka shoved at her in the Goblin Market after Loki’s “assistance.” Trust the wily little creature to turn this into a multi-step exercise to get the blasted information they needed to finally pin down all the locations. Throwing the documents on the exquisitely gilded coffee table, Maura leaned back to rub her eyes.

“I can have the creature encased in ice for the next decade if she has displeased you.” Looking up, Maura saw Loki draped elegantly along the 18th century sofa, eyeing her as he took a sip of his drink.

Sighing, Maura shook her head. “It is possible the sneaky bana-bhuidseach had nothing more than this next step. It’s just- ah. Never mind.”

Instead, the temporary General of the Chitauri from the ill-conceived invasion of Midgard leaned forward, fixing those paralyzingly intent green eyes on the girl. “Your information is incomplete?”

“Not exactly,” sighed Maura, “it’s just- ugh! Now there’s another step, visiting one of the local Ruski kingpins at his nightclub tonight. More bribes, more posturing. And frankly, Loki- er, Prince Loki? General Loki?”

“Just Loki, please, my agitated little assassin,” he interrupted, his smooth expression clenching just slightly as the unwelcome titles made him shift just a tad.

Eyeing the barest hint of displeasure from their host, Maura shifted in her seat. “I’ve just had enough of nightclubs at the moment,” she admitted, concealing a dry heave at the picture of the half-naked contractor snoring in the Purple Paradise Lounge. “Our friend- O’Connell, the Irishman? This is his niece- she’s a child, really. If we don’t get her out in time- with all those other kiddos- there will never be a childhood she can bear to remember.” Watching her slumped posture, Loki was quite certain his treasure’s new cousin knew quite what that felt like.

Leaving Maura to ponder the scraps of information, Loki walked outside, feeling that his treasure and the menacing British man had spent more than enough time together necessary for Nora’s “smoke break.”

Once gathered again in the ridiculously beautiful sitting room and glasses refilled, they all set about plotting the best way to extract the critical Paukove Mreže syndicate locations where they’d be harboring the children and women gathered, prepared for the horrors of the sex resorts. Somewhere along the line, it had become a given that Loki and Nora would be assisting in the mission- even though no one really ever said the words out loud. “The timing is crucial,” Thomas said, a frown on his handsome face as his eyes darted between the papers Maura had laid out like a puzzle.

“Why?” Asked Nora, looking over the irritating broad shoulder blocking her view. She was moments from dragging over one of the priceless Jacob Georges chairs and standing on the ancient embroidered seat to get a look.

Politely moving aside and taking her elbow to put her between himself and Loki, Thomas gestured to the plans. “The Burićs have at least 10 strongholds, brothels and sex resorts- that we know. To destroy them all, it must be a concentrated assault before one can warn the others.”

Nora tried to concentrate, but her disgust at the phrase “sex resort” and the feeling of standing in a well with the two of them looming over her was making it difficult. “And how do you know this new crime lord has the locations?”

Maura leaned in, giving her a smile, “Ivanov is a passport broker. He handles all the visas, false passports and travel documents for the Burićs family. And where they go, the hostages go.”

Tapping something into his laptop, Loki raised a regal brow. “I do not believe your offering of a fistful of rubles will be productive in this transaction. Valery Ivanov has a financial empire rivaling…” ‘Well, mine,’ he finished silently, smiling graciously at Thomas’s raised eyebrow.

Maura and her Thomas exchanged a smile. “Money is not what Ivanov requires,” drawled the man. “We’ve a little something to pick up at the front desk as we leave.”

Nora _hated_ that- that same smug, secretive look she encountered on Loki’s face multiple times daily. “Share with the class,” she urged crossly, “don’t be all...smirky.” Maura saved her from a stare by laughing, sending Thomas’s disapproving glance at his lover instead.

“Sorry, cousin. we did a quick bit of research on Ivanov and while he does have all the rubles in Eastern Europe, what he doesn’t have is issue one of the “Action Comics” comic book from 1938, the very first time Superman is introduced.” Maura crowed, rubbing her hands together.

After a brief discussion with Loki and about the cost/benefit ratio of carrying guns into the nightclub meeting, they decided against it, moving to slip into coats held by an expressionless Charles. As Nora went for her mittens, Loki pulled her aside. “Treasure. You know you cannot join us.”

 

“What?”

Loki pulled himself up to his full height, giving his haughtiest expression, hoping to annoy Nora into not wanting to accompany him, them, but also knowing it was a faint hope at best.  This little alliance had been her doing, and she would want to be there to see it through.

“It is, of course, far too dangerous for someone like you.  Why don’t you take a bath, read a bit, and I promise you a very detailed report of tonight’s triumph of good when I get return.  And perhaps tomorrow before the flight out we can stop at the State Museum of Defense and Siege to see the captured Nazi tanks.  I know you would like that.”

Nora clapped her mittened hands together and jumped up and down, “Oh yes, Daddy, and then when we get home you can buy me a pony and an ice cream cone,” she said in a high, girlish voice (making Thomas have to stifle a laugh), which then dropped to a growl, “you unmitigated dick.”

Ah, dick was not good.  Dick meant she was truly angry.

“Regardless whether we visit the museum or not, you are not going tonight, and that is final.  I will not be gainsaid in this, and I am sure that Thomas and Maura agree it is wisest if you remain here.”

“I wasn’t planning on being at the meeting.  I’ll sit at the bar and drink a too expensive, too sweet girl-drink, get a headache from what is no doubt a terrible, Russian-bro DJ, and wait.  I just want to see … something!”

“Nora,” Thomas’s deep voice was clipped, “this isn’t a tourist outing.  This is a deadly man surrounded by armed guards, and Loki and Maura would both be distracted with worry over you.  Which would distract me, as I would then be worrying about Maura.”

“Then I wait in the car.  Maura?”  Loki hated the growing look of misery on Nora’s face, but there was simply no possible way he could change his mind.  He was deeply regretting that he was going himself at this point.

Maura looked torn.  Finally she smiled softly at her cousin, “I’m sorry Nora, but they _are_ both right.  Even the car isn’t a good idea.”  She looked like she wanted to say something more, but looked at Thomas and then stopped herself.

“Fine.”  Nora took off her coat, “Fuck you very much,” she said to Loki as she left the room.

In a fury, Loki ushered Thomas and Maura from the suite.  He took a step towards the elevator and then held up a finger.  “One moment.”

There was no way that Nora would not try to follow them, so using a Choppard fountain pen and bit of her hair that he found on the shoulder of his coat, Loki made a neat little Nora-proof barrier on the door.

 

You can find part two of this chapter here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8575273/chapters/21045155  Thank you for reading!


	8. There Are Consequences to Breaking the Heart of a Murdering Bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go rather badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure why Caffiend the glorious is being listed as the co-author for every chapter now. Trust me, all of this garbage is only on me.

In deference to Nora’s misery while travelling Loki waited, Magnus’s blandly pleasant face plastered over his own seething one, until they made it back to the 999 before he asked her again about this “deal” she had made with Baba Yaga. Eighteen hours of helping her stay sane was nearly as exhausting for him as for her.

When they exited the car Nora stood inhaling the cold, wet air of the twilight as if she’d been suffocating. The faint scents of cordite, skunk weed, and chocolate and the tang of the lake that made up Chicago air was beginning to seem as much like home to Loki as they were to her.

Charles had disappeared to where ever he went when not serving, and Mrs. Beekman had left dinner for them in the kitchen. When they were finally alone, Loki removed his coat and gloves, and then his torc, trying to compose himself. 

Nora had gone straight into the bedroom and laid down, her boots still on, but hanging off of the bed.

“Don’t you want to take those off? You would be more comfortable.”  Loki tried to sound normal, but he was so worked up that he was no longer sure what that would sound like. 

What had Nora been thinking? Not only had she placed herself in the most terrible danger, but she knew Baba Yaga.  The hag had been one of their most difficult clients for months.  There was nothing from her but annoying phone calls out of office hours, and terrible questions that she already knew the answer to.  No, she could not sue Hallmark for copyright infringement just because their newest Halloween card looked a bit like her.  Yes, it was illegal to eat ANY human child, even if he or she was behaving very badly indeed. 

And Loki had known her for most of his life. Baba Yaga was one of the only creatures on Midgard that even the AllFather took a light step about.

“No, I’ll be leaving again soon, I just wanted to rest my eyes.” She sat up quickly, shaking her head trying to wake up, “I need to pack.  Again.”

She stumbled past him into the hall, heading towards the guest room that doubled as her closet.

“What do you mean leave? And pack?”  Loki asked, drawing out the words, following her.

“Baba Yaga is picking me up in- Jesus, forty minutes.” Nora pulled a duffel bag off of a shelf.  It had not been part of her Christmas present, and Loki stood in silence as he watched her pick through her things, packing the few pieces of clothing she had here that had not been part of that gift.

“What are you talking about?” She ignored him and finished packing, and then, as if noticing her clothes for the first time she swore.

“Fuck me!” Nora plopped to the ground, wincing as she jarred her unhealed bruises, and started working on the knots in her boot laces.

“NORA!” Loki shouted, and finally she looked at him, “What are you doing?  What do you mean Baba Yaga is picking you up?”

“That’s the deal I made with her. Her apprentice, you know, Lisa?  She has a family thing, so I agreed to travel with B.Y. until she returns.  And she told me I can’t bring anything you gave me.  I can only bring things I have purchased for myself.  So no nice new boots, no good coat.  I think I have a pair of sneakers under the bed, would you check?”

She sounded very reasonable.

She had clearly lost her mind.

“For how long?” Loki finally rasped out, exhaustion from the flight and worry finally taking the last of his restraint.

“What? Fine, I’ll find the fucking shoes,” Nora crawled over to the bed but before she could lift the duvet Loki took a step towards her, lifting her by her waist and ignoring her yelp of pain as he pressed more of her wounds.

“For how long?” he gritted out, knowing that the answer was going to be very bad.

“Forty days plus one. That was how she put it.  She’s just like you, why can’t either of you just say ‘forty one days’?  Is that so ha-“

Who did she think she was? She was responsible for him.  She had agreed to be with him, to make sure he would… she was supposed to… she was… she couldn’t leave… she had told him …

No.

“Forty one days!” Now he roared, not caring how close Nora was, how blastingly loud he knew he could be.  “You agreed to leave me for forty one days just to be revenged, you spiteful little bitch?”  

Nora stepped back, “What did you call me?”

“A spiteful little bitch. Who doesn’t appreciate when someone tries to protect her from her own foolhardiness.”

“Right.” She fished in her jacket pocket and pulled out her cellphone and thrust it at him, “Can’t take that either, you bought it for me for work. And my old phone is at home.  You’ll have to call Marissa and tell her I am going to miss her bridal shower.  No, sorry, this is all about you, isn’t it?  I’ll leave a note and ask Charles to do it, since you’ll be too busy being a pouting little boy!” 

By the end Nora’s singer’s lungs had gotten into it and she was nearly as loud as he was.

And it went from there. For the next ten minutes they did little more than scream at each other : childish, controlling, ungrateful, narcissistic, untrusting, untrustworthy, and on and on, everything they had never wanted to say to each other.  Until, finally, Nora just started to ignore Loki, continuing to look for enough clothing to fill her little bag.

All the while he followed her, hissing cruelly everything he knew that would hurt her the most. That he would miss her less than she thought he would, spending those dull, dark days in St. Petersburg had told him that.  That he wondered if this was not for the best, since after observing her cousin and her lover’s particular intimacy it seemed that maybe what they had was less compelling than he had previously thought.   That she was replaceable in his office, his bed, and his life as a whole.  That by his lights, they had been together for what, a few hours at most, not even the equivalent of a fling, really.

Loki knew that Nora recognized he was only trying to hurt her, and he knew that that alone would be the worst part for her. Long ago she had told Eddie that all she wanted was to stop loving people, (like her parents, her brothers, even Claire in her selfish way of life, her cheating ex-fiancé) who didn’t care if they hurt her.

When an especially nasty barb found its place, she would actually twitch, just a touch, something only he would notice.

He told himself it was pleasing.

Nora finally zipped up her tote, and sat to pull her trainers on. “Do you remember if I left a coat in the front closet?” she said very quietly.

When he didn’t answer she stood and started to leave. He grabbed her arm and pulled her against his body, “I can make you stay, Nora.  Make it so you would die before you left me.  She would have to drag you out of the building and you would break your fingers scrambling back across the floor to get to me,” he whispered deep in her ear, and she shuddered.

“Don’t. You promised-“

“I am a God, I am above your petty ‘promises’,” he said, smirking. Nora was shaking and trying to pull away and he started to whisper into her ear words that could not be heard, only felt.   Some day he had hoped that he would use this spell, well, one like this spell on her, with her consent.  Not like this, this was monstrously wrong.

He did not stop.

Nora’s eyes fluttered closed, her head too heavy for her neck, and she leaned on him, her body still trembling, but now with needy arousal. Loki could see the diamond points of her nipples and she rubbed her cheek against his chest,

moaning. He thrust a hand between her legs.

She was soaked though the heavy denim. He rubbed idly while still whispering and Nora grabbed his hand, pushing harder, trying to ride it, “Oh, god, I can’t stand it,” she bit his chest and pulled his hair, she kissed up his neck, and he could tell she was aching beyond any reason.   When she looked to him in mute need, her eyes were the color of mud.

The last of the spell caught in his throat and would not be spit out.

Nora froze and jerked back from him. Just staring, as if she was no longer sure what he was.

He sneered, “So easy to have, if I truly wanted you after your ridiculous little snit over St. Petersburg.”

She nodded. “Okay, thanks for making this so easy.”  She headed out to the foyer, stopping to find a coat.  She did not have one, but she found a heavy sweater of Mrs. Beekman’s.  “Here,” she took a fifty out of her wallet, “give her this, and tell her I’ll send it back when I have a chance.”

“That’s isn’t warm en-“ he started to say, not thinking.

“Shut the fuck up!”

She was leaving. She was not saying goodbye, she was simply leaving, going to travel blithely about who knew where with a malevolent, ancient hag, abandoning him, and she was the one who was angry?

As the bell rang for the elevator Loki leant close, as if to kiss her cheek, and said, “I was the one who stole your precious paintings, my treasure.”

The door opened, and Rudy’s weekend replacement Elinor looked confused to see Nora heading out again so quickly, not dressed for the weather. Nora stepped in and before the doors closed, looked at Loki, “I know you did.  Why do you think I have been so miserable?”

 


	9. Like all rotten bastards, when they get old, they become lonely. Not that that has any effect on their disposition. But they do learn the value of company.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora hits the road. There may be pie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to super-beta Caffiend for dealing with my double event.

It must have been freezing outside that night, or Nora thought it was. There was actually steam coming off of her body, not just puffing from her mouth as she tried to keep from hyperventilating.  She couldn’t feel it yet, but she knew that the sweat that was trickling down her back and neck were going to start to get cold and she wasn’t dressed warmly enough.  Even through the shock she could feel the frozen sidewalk through the thin soles of her old Keds.

“He’s going to follow me. He’s going to come barreling out any minute.   He’s waiting for the elevator.  Or he’s running down the stairs.”  Nora thought, wrapping her arms around herself.  “He’s going to apologize.  He’s going to grab me and beg me to forgive him and kiss me.”

The building behind her was silent.

“He’s going to come out, and put his coat over my shoulders, and hold my hand so I don’t have to wait alone. He’s going to know I am scared.  He’s going to think of a way to trick Baba Yaga and I won’t have to go.  And then I can go upstairs and sleep.”

Her body hurt.

Nora stood alone in the dark, listening to the Lake Shore Drive traffic, shivering, until Baba Yaga drove up in a concrete mixer and then she climbed into the heated cab and they drove off, heading north.

 

“You are shit company, you know that girl?” B.Y. said after they had been driving for a half hour, her English perfectly clear in spite of her heavy Russian accent. “Hello and then nothing?  Rude, after I did you a favor.”

“It wasn’t a favor. We made a deal.  And I am concentrating on not throwing up in your lovely… vehicle.  I thought you might consider it disrespectful.”  Nora said, her voice muffled where she had her scarf pulled up to her mouth.  She couldn’t get warm even with the heater blowing straight at her.

“You sick? Yeah, you start to heave and you better do it out of the window or I make you ride in back.”

“Back? The back is-“

“We will stop for pie and coffee. You will feel better and you can tell me why Odin’s little boy didn’t see you off, yes?”

Nora stared at the ancient woman. She was tiny, sitting on several years-worth of Vogue’s Fall Fashion issues so she could see over the huge steering wheel.   Several long, white hairs sprouted from a mole on her chin, giving her a slight nanny-goat quality.  She was dressed in a housecoat, combat boots, what appeared to be a Soviet-era Red Army officer’s coat, and a red babushka.  She turned her head briefly and winked.

She was, without a doubt, the most badass woman Nora had ever seen.

Somewhere in one of the very, very tony North Shore suburbs where Nora had never been to before, Baba Yaga pulled over her concrete mixer in front of a small diner with a real counter and what appeared to be handmade gingham curtains in the windows.

A waitress in an honest-to-god pink uniform complete with a little white cap was just about to turn the sign to ‘Closed’ when B.Y. waved a hand and the sign turned itself back. “We are just having pie, and coffee.  No problem.”

The waitress, who looked tired, just nodded as if in a daze and walked to fill the coffeemaker.

“You know, she probably needs to get home. Waitressing is pretty damned tiring.”  Nora objected, but still followed her into the diner.

“Then she should work elsewhere,” B.Y. said with certainty, sprawling into a booth and putting up her feet. “Спасибо, sweetie,” she said to the waitress, patting her on the cheek as while she dropped off water and silverware.  “Oh, and real cream for the damned coffee.  None of that putrid creamer.  Bah.”

The waitress nodded, still in a daze.

“She’s fine,” B.Y. said. “Now, you tell me you are going to throw up because you had a fight with Little Loki and I am going to lose all respect for you.  I’ll have you taking care of my pets and housecleaning rather than being my companion.”

“No, I’m trying not to throw up because I’m afraid to travel. Deathly afraid.”

The waitress brought two cups of coffee, a little pitcher of cream, and a slice from each of the seven types of pie they had. B.Y. rubbed her hands together, “A nice little feast.”  After taking several bites of blackberry and waving her head back and forth in a considering way she abruptly jabbed her fork at Nora’s face, “Bullshit you are afraid to travel.  You were in St. Petersburg yesterday.”

“I’m kind of okay when I get where I’m going. It’s just the going that’s the

problem. Loki… Loki helps me when we are going somewhere.”

B.Y. gave a dirty snort, “I bet he does. That boy, he’s a giver.  Well, don’t expect any ‘help’ from me.”

Nora sipped coffee, “He doesn’t…. he just talks to me. He tells me stories.”

“But not tonight?” B.Y. polished off the blackberry and started in on the lime merengue, “You had a fight.  I can smell it.  His hate is all over you.”

Nora made a noise.

“If you cry, I also lose all respect for you. This merengue is lousy.”  But she kept eating. 

“He was angry that I made a deal with you.   That I am going to be leaving him alone for weeks.  I- for him it’s no time at all but he acted like I had stabbed him in the back.”

“No god wants his High Priestess to say she’s scarpering off with some other mythological creature. They are touchy as fuck that way.  Especially the lonely ones.”

“I’m not his High Priestess! I’m his assistant, and his-“ Nora stopped, the idea of calling herself Loki’s girlfriend was too ridiculous.

“You worship him and he gives you blessings and his cock. High Priestess.  Nice work if you can get it, but the hours suck.  Try the peach, it’s not the worst.”

“We’re in love.” Nora heard her prim tone and knocked her head on the not very clean table-top, “Listen to me!  How did I turn into this?  I want to grab your keys and bolt back to him right now and I’m in the right!”

“Of course you are. You’re the woman, after all.”  Baba Yaga signaled for more coffee.  When Nora’s cup was full again she turned it three times, finally facing the handle back at Nora.  “You drink that it should help with the puke.  I won’t fix your fear.  It’s not my style.

“When Loki was a boy One-eye would bring him and that big brother of his with him sometimes when he was wandering. He liked to hang out with the Rus’ tribes, going Viking with them, hearing the scops sing about him.  Typical, vain god shit.  Whenever his father turned his eye away your pretty boy would turn into something, wild cat, wolf cub, and he would be off before anyone knew he was gone.  Sometimes he’d find me and watch me, watch my spells, as if I believed for a second that green-eyed fox kit was just an animal.  Hah! 

“Eventually that big brother of his would find him. He’s not quick, but he’s a fine hunter, that fool.  He’d carry him back to papa, growling and spitting all the way home.  I always liked Loki.  He’s crazy as a 6’4 bedbug, but still.  Tell me about this fight.  He locked you up, yes?  Fucking aristocrats!”

So Nora told Baba Yaga an edited (sans Maura and Thomas, and most of the sex) version of what had gone on since the night of the Art Institute robbery.   Eventually, when she got to the part about Koschei and the abduction she finally

started nibbling on a corner of the chess pie.

“How did you know he stole the paintings?” B.Y. asked, leaning forward, drinking in every word like the magical world’s version of the neighborhood gossip. Which she basically was.

“One time Loki offered defenestrate my dry cleaner for losing a pair of my pants. When I was so upset about the paintings being stolen I was sure at some point he was going to offer to help find them.  Instead he just acted like I was being ridiculous and kept distracting me.  Man, the night of the robbery itself he eve-“

Nora stopped herself with a huge gulp of coffee.

Baba snorted.

“Ok. He’s a bastard.  You knew this.  But you didn’t expect him to be a bastard to you, because he loves you.  Crazy boy doesn’t have that kind of control over himself. Shapeshifters, they have all those different brains in their brains.  And then having the biggest big brother in the fucking universe.  Who wouldn’t be crazy?  In fact, I’m impressed nothing happened before this.  You must scare the shit out of him, and he must really be in love with you.”

“He is. But after tonight I don’t know if that’s good enough for me.  He wants everything to be his way and I can’t let him.” 

Baba Yaga snorted again. “Sure, brown eyes, sure.  You are strong, independent, you don’t mind being lonely or having a cold bed.  Or you wouldn’t, if he was just a man. “

“But he’s a god, right, and I just can’t give that up?” Nora said in a snappish tone.  The coffee was helping.

“No, little dummy, because he is YOURS. When you meet yours, whoever they are, you don’t get to be strong or independent, and the loneliness will kill you and every night you freeze to death when you sleep alone.  Now get the rest of the pie wrapped and you pay.  I have to pee.  You should too, it’s a long way to Harbin and I hate to take rest stops.”

“Harbin? Where’s Harbin?”

“China, last I checked.”

 


	10. That was when I learned, some things, once you do them, they can never be undone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki stays home. There may be bacon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am posting two chapters in one night. I have mentioned the brilliant Caffiend who made all of this possible, but I haven't mentioned her new, amazing story My Lovely Doll - http://archiveofourown.org/works/9535484/chapters/21561410 . Thomas is making me want to kill him, but not until after I read all of the lovely smut.

The doors of the elevator closed.

Loki smirked at his reflection for a moment before returning to the condo.

Nora knew. She knew he had been responsible for the theft of the paintings.  She had known for some time, apparently.

Excellent. Then there was nothing more between them.  All of his alleged sins (as if a god could sin) were in the open.  He had thrown the cruelest words and crudest magics at her.  He had tried to confine her against her will.  And like a wild bird battering against a cage she had been desperate to be free of him.  Desperate enough to entrust herself to a creature just as dangerous as- and arguably even more- vile than he was.  Loki had never been accused of child-eating. 

He strode into the bedroom and poured himself a Brennivin, while easing the torc off.

It had taken him less than a month to prove that Nora’s love and her vaunted friendship were weak and fragile things, unable to stand up to the least of his crimes.   It was good he was free of her.

There would most like be some issues with his father. But that could be worked around for the forty days and one.  He would mainly remain at home for that short time, working from here, and using alternate routes when he needed to leave to be unseen by Heimdall.  And when the time was up and Nora was back in her little slum he would approach her, offer to continue her employment so she could continue to enjoy the luxuries of a home and food.  Loki might even fuck her now and then to keep her docile.  All would look to prying eyes as if he was being a good boy.

He heard air brakes just outside of the building and went to the window.

A concrete mixer had pulled up and could see Nora toss her small bag of belongings into the cab, and then pull herself up. She was stiff and shivering. 

That was just too bad.

Loki toasted her with his glass of Black Death, “Good luck, treasure,” he said the last as if it was foul in his mouth, “I do so hope the queen of the hags doesn’t get you killed.” He finished the last of the drink and then hurled the glass across the room into the fire, spitting sparks as drips of the high proof liquor hit the flames.

 

For the next three days everything was as it should be.   Mr. Rasmussen might have been a little more clipped and less friendly with his staff and the building workers than he normally was, but then he must be tired after that whirlwind trip to Russia.  And, of course, Ms. Walsh was away with her grandmother, so he was probably annoyed that he didn’t have his excellent assistant to help him, but otherwise all was well.

Mrs. Beekman loved the ‘reproduction’ Faberge egg that he had brought her, and was of course happy to look after Django until Miss Nora returned. She was quite fond of the little monster.

Marissa was annoyed about Nora being gone, and knew something was up, but Loki sent along the Valentin Yushdaskin wedding gown that Nora had brought back for her and she pretty much forgot everything else.

Charles kept his own council, but watched his master carefully, while quietly tucking away certain more delicate and breakable items.

And on the fourth morning the storm that he had been waiting for hit. It started, innocently enough, with bacon.

 

“Mrs. Beekman!” Magnus’ voice roared from the larger dining room.  He had taken a distaste for the smaller one he had normally preferred, since returning from Russia. 

Charles looked up from where he was drying a plate to Mrs. Beekman, who was taking off her apron to go see what the matter was. He quietly put up a hand.  “No, Evelyn, allow me.”  He carefully dried his hands, rolling his sleeves down and straightening his already perfect tie, “I would recommend you take Master Django for a walk.  And perhaps take the rest of the day for yourself.”

Mrs. Beekman’s eyes narrowed behind her glasses, “There’s something the matter between himself and Miss Nora, isn’t there?”

“I am afraid that may be the case.”

“Oh, there’ll be hell to pay then. That fool of a man doesn’t know when he has it good, does he?”

“I am afraid that is also the case.”

“Mrs. BEEKMAN!” Came the bellow again.

 

It was a simple thing. Bacon.  You would think a well remunerated professional cook would know how to make it the way her employer required, but apparently that was too high of an expectation for a cook from this benighted and dull little realm.

Loki held the limp, chewy piece of bacon between his thumb and index finger, and scowled at it.

“I am sorry, sir, but Mrs. Beekman has taken Django for his morning constitutional. May I be of service instead?”  Charles stood just inside the door, his voice irritatingly calm.

“Of course she is. Because that is what I pay her to do.  To take that revolting animal walkies.  Oh, wait, I do not pay her for that.  I pay her to cook.  To cook properly, which she has failed to do.  Look at this…mess!  Who eats bacon like this?  It is disgusting.  Sodden.  Foul.“  Loki started pacing back and forth along the dining room table, his voice growing louder, “I require properly crisp bacon!”  His fist came down on the table, causing an ominous cracking noise deep in the heavy oak legs.

“Ms. Walsh.” Charles said quietly.

“What?” Loki’s voice was a hiss, and he looked at his perfect manservant from under Magnus’ curls.

“Ms. Walsh. She prefers her bacon that way.  Mrs. Beekman has been making it that way for her for the last few months and I am sure that she-“

“When she returns tell Mrs. Beekman she is dismissed.”

“No, sir.” Charles voice was implacably calm.

“What did you say to me?” Loki was around the table and at Charles in an eye blink, standing over the smaller being and snarling down on him, “You do not say no to me.”

“I am afraid I must, sir. You are not in a proper frame of mind to make such a decision, and I am sure you will regret it later.  I will be happy to rectify the situation with the bacon if you wish.”

Loki took a step back and cocking his head to look at Charles, as if trying to figure out what exactly he was. “You are also dismissed.  Pack your little grey suits and your knives and be out within the half hour.”

“No, sir. You are quite aware that you cannot dismiss me.  My vow of service not only holds for your lifetime, but entails me to your heirs.  There is only one way to end my contract.”  Charles looked to the table, at the silver carving service that sat beside the thus far untouched breakfast ham.

Loki nodded and reached for the knife.

Charles eased his jacket off and started to unbutton his shirt. “You understand I am also contractually obligated to try and defend myself, sir.”

“Oh, yes. I am counting on it, Charles.”

 

The dining room table, once a perfect example of 18th century carpentry, was now kindling. The matching sideboard had been reduced to nothing but boards and every bit of bone-china within it was now little more than shards and powder.

Out of the large dining room the destruction continued, with shattered furniture and windows, priceless works of art now unrecognizable garbage. There were burn marks on the foyer rug, and part of the guest powder room was actually on fire.  Every surface of the kitchen was impaled with cutlery, every cabinet opened and denuded of food or dishes, all of which now littered the floor.

Only the bookcases were spared from the utter devastation.

Finally, Loki managed a good grip on the scruff of his valet, holding him kicking in the air. “I believe a strike to your tertiary cardiac sphincter will end this,” he wheezed out, more exhausted than he cared to admit.

“You are correct, sir.” Charles gasped out.

A long, slightly curved dagger materialized in Loki’s hand. He pulled back for the strike. 

Charles waited to cease living, closing his eyes. He found the mess surrounding them distressing and he preferred not to have it be his last sight.

Nothing happened.

Charles opened one eye. Loki still held him aloft, but he was staring past him.  Charles managed to turn his head just enough to see what he was looking at.

It was the open door to the master bedroom. Loki was just looking at the wreckage of his once grand bed.  Unthinkingly he dropped Charles and walked into the room.  He stood beside the bed and lightly stroked a hand over one of the pillows that bled feathers everywhere.

“Charles, please tell Mrs. Beekman that I will be away for some time to come. Continue to pay her from the household accounts indefinitely.”

“Yes, sir,” Charles said, trying to tidy himself. “I will start packing.”

Loki raised a hand, not looking at him, “No need, Charles, no need. I will be traveling light.”

With that he lifted his hand to his mouth and bit it until he bled, and then used his blood to create a shape like a doorway on the wall beside his ruined bed. He then spat a gobbet of flesh at where the knob would be.  There was a gleam of green light and a heavy, rustic door formed, the kind one might find on an old farmhouse.

“See what you can do about this place, and set up the vacation notifications for the consultancy.”

“Very good, sir. And, um, if we should hear from Ms. Walsh?  Do you have any message for her?”

“No.”

Loki opened the door, and an icy wind blew in, seeming to grab him, and pull him through, slamming the door shut behind him.

 


	11. They say the number one killer of old people is retirement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little timey-whimey and Nora drinks some water.

The coffee spell that had controlled Nora’s vomiting, if not her shaking, wore off about the time Baba Yaga and she reached Madison, Wisconsin. Nora celebrated visiting her alma mater by throwing up on the snowy shores of Lake Mendota at four-ish in the morning.

Actually, considering her college career, it was a bit nostalgic.

“Waste of perfectly good pie,” B.Y. said, patting the kneeling woman on the back. “I have to go feed Truck. You stay here, make sure you get rid of all of it before I’m back.” And with that she roared off into the dark, leaving Nora to enjoy the sound of the water and the snow soaking through her sweater.

She looked at the darkened city and the lights from the campus. A few minutes later a tall, very fit looking student with lovely blonde curls jogged past her, a look of concern and scornful amusement warring on his face. Yes, it was a very nostalgic visit indeed.

Once he was out of sight Nora heaved again, and then lay her face in the snow, trembling with dehydration and senseless fear, rather wishing the Russians had shot her, missing Loki, and hating herself for all of it.

 

B.Y. had brought Nora a bottle of water (which she wouldn’t give her until Nora coughed up three dollars), and said they would be making a few stops on the way to Harbin, after all. “Just checked my messages. Such bullshit! Anyway, we are making a detour. You call these eggs?” She jeered at the woman whose house they had basically invaded in Sun Prairie, Baba Yaga ‘asking’ her to make breakfast.

Nora was too sick for moral outrage. At least, based on the house and the woman’s expensive workout gear she could afford to feed a ravenous old woman. Nora’s stomach felt like fire and she could barely hold down water.

It went on like that for another day, with what seemed like an endless, bone-shaking ride, punctuated by Nora tossing up water and then sucking more down, while nodding along as Baba Yaga pontificated on the state of Wisconsin, terrible American food, and other things while Nora tried to sleep and failed. It also seemed like they were driving around in circles, but one grey bit of frost-covered farmland, black tree line, or patch of winter-white sky looked like any other, after all.

“Ok, we stop here for the night.” Baba Yaga pulled into the parking lot of a defunct Wal-Mart near the Wisconsin/Michigan border. Nora was admittedly confused, but she was pretty sure they should have been farther along than by now. When she mentioned it to B.Y., the old woman shrugged, “Mileage, yes, but time, no.”

Ok. Whatever.

“I told you that you can’t bring anything Loki gave you along on this trip,” B.Y. said, as she motioned for Nora to exit the cab. 

“I haven’t! It’s why I’m freezing and slipping all over the place, and can’t make any phone calls! God, I am almost out of money and I really need to buy socks…” Nora stumbled after the other woman, heading toward the back of the mixer, not sure why.

There was a little ladder attached to the back of the truck, leading to a tiny hatch. “Lucky you’re so skinny,” and with that B.Y. was up the ladder and in the hatch.

Ok, sure, that made sense. Nora stared after her. A few minutes passed and then B.Y.’s little head popped out. “Up!”

Nora, dizzy and not finding good purchase with her sneakers, slowly climbed the ladder. Fine, she was going into a concrete mixer in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere in the upper Midwest. She vaguely wondered if the Coen Brothers were secretly filming her.

Going headfirst into the darkness, Nora felt herself drop and then land with an ‘ooofff!’ onto what felt like a large amount of pillows.

It was a large amount of pillows. 

The space inside the mixer was vastly larger than it should have been, lavishly appointed in a style that could be best described as a Hollywood version of the Ottoman empire, complete with low divans, silk and velvet pillows, thick rugs, and a samovar over a brazier that sent plumes of mist into the air that B.Y. hovered over, making tea. “Sorry for the suck, I normally would have my house follow us, but she is broody with her newest batch of eggs and I left her in Siberia.”

“Right,” Nora had learned it was best to pretend she understood pronouncements like that rather than asking for an explanation.

“There are socks in that chest. You can send me money when you get home. I will keep track of what you owe. Now, as I was saying, I told you to leave behind all of the stuff you got from crazy boy and you still have the first thing he ever gave. It keeps you locked to him. If you really want to walk away from him, be strong, you have to give it up.”

“I think the first thing he ever gave me was cookies, and I am pretty sure I have tossed all of those.” Nora said, stiffly settling on a divan.

“Ha! Funny joke! You are always funny, little girl.” Baba Yaga handed her a cup, and when Nora looked askance at it she just waved her to drink it, “Valerian. Herbs, not magic. Anyway, no. Not cookies, or wine, or pretty clothes, money. The first thing he ever gave you was that fear. You love that fear because you lover gave it to you, even if you didn’t know he was your lover yet. You hug it so tight, like it was him.”

“Wh-“ Nora stopped, and then sipped more the grossest tea she had ever had. She thought about it. She thought about the first time she had seen Loki. Not in Eddie’s apartment, not even in New York. She thought about seeing him in Stuttgart, that same video that was aired over and over again. He was …

She had gone out that night and picked up a man at the Map Room. It had been one of those nights where everyone was out to get laid. The aliens were here, Captain America had risen from the dead, and no one knew what was going to happen yet so time to get drunk and screw.

Nora hadn’t picked anyone up in ages, but she had worn a short skirt and a knowing look and she went from place to place until she found him. Whoever he was. It didn’t matter, he was tall, and his black hair was maybe not black enough, but it hadn’t mattered. 

The next morning she flew to New York. He was the last person she slept with for over two years and she couldn’t even remember if she had enjoyed it. No, she hadn’t. It had been dissatisfying.

“Christ.” She sipped more tea, finally feeling her muscles unlock. Her hand shaking Nora set the cup down on the floor, slipping off her shoes. “I can’t just-“

“Why the fuck not, little girl? Just stop it. Throw that fear into a ditch and be done with it.”

Nora was so tired. She lay herself carefully on the pillows, feeling as if even that gesture would shake her apart. If she could just sleep a bit. But every time she had tried to close her eyes she had reached out for Loki and when she didn’t find him she jerked awake, like a dream of falling, and couldn’t fall back again.

Maybe now-

She slept for a day and a night.

 

The next morning when she was finally up, Nora ate some toast. Later in the day she sipped a very milky coffee, and by dinner she was eating rice pudding and a bagel in another diner. This one, thankfully still open when they arrived. She noticed vaguely there was something a little weird about the place. No one seemed to have a cellphone. The prices were a bit low.

Slowly she felt better. She ate more, and she took a few turns driving the mixer (which was frightening in itself, but exhilaratingly so) along the seemingly endless back-highway Baba Yaga had them on.

By the fourth morning after leaving Chicago Nora woke up, climbed in the cab, and wanted donuts. Slouching down in the seat she fiddled with the radio for the first time and found, to her astonishment, a channel playing Judy Henske. “That’s crazy,” she laughed, and sang “High Flying Bird,” along with the radio.

Baba Yaga looked over at her, head cocked, and then plucked a long, black hair from where it was stuck to Nora’s sweater. She rolled down the window and flicked it out. “So you feel better this morning? Not so scared?”

“Scared of what?”

“Hmm. Not so sick?”

“I don’t think I am sick, actually.”

“Not missing Loki?” The old woman asked, her inflection rising.

“Who?”


	12. For the record, letting someone think that someone they love is dead when they're not is quite cruel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki visits the family cabin. There will be scotch.

There were a few resort areas on the island of Svalbard, Norway, as well as spots that were popular with tourists who enjoyed the out of doors, or the citizens of Longyearbyen who were starting to get a touch of cabin fever, in the deep, Northern winter. The bleakly beautiful mountains were especially popular with those looking to view the Northern Lights. 

There is one particular small valley in the mountains that had an ominous look when seen from a distance, and everyone in the archipelago would tell you that it was bad luck, and no one ever went there.

Or if they did, they never came back.

And for some reason, even though it had been there for longer than any other structure on the island, no one ever remembered that there was a hunting lodge deep in that valley. Certainly no one ever dared set foot in it.  Which was why, as Loki approached it, heart-sick and longing to be alone, he was furious to see a cheerful curl of smoke escaping the chimney.

As he drew closer he heard music playing as well.

Loki stopped and leaned his head on the wooden door for a moment. By Cul, even without Kelsey about Katy Perry was inescapable.

When the song ended Loki let himself into the lodge before another could begin.

The main room was unaltered from when last Loki had been here, some thirty years before, the large, low-ceiling room rustic and more in the local style than that of Asgard. Various trophies, heads and full body mounts of animals slain by the Odinsons and the Borsons before them, decorated the walls.  The only true changes were a pair of large, wet boots sitting near the door, and Mjolnir sitting on one of the sofas near the fireplace, looking very comfortable.

Really, what were the odds?

Just as Loki was about to turn around and wearily leave, the door to the galley opened and Thor entered, bearing a huge tray of food, a small, wooden liquor cask under his arm. Loki waited to see if he would be trailed by Sif, any of the Pick-You-Insulting-Term Three, or Doctor Foster.  Or, if his fate was holding steady, any or all of the Avengers.  But no parade of admiring friends or loved ones followed his brother, who froze in place, staring at him, while a vast amount of food and the cask crashed to the floor.

Apparently Loki could go nowhere today without causing a mess.

“Hello, brother.” He said, his voice tired.

Thor took a step towards him, and then stopped, “What happened to your face?”

Loki puzzled for a second and then remembered, “Ah, the eye? The lip?  My valet and I had a disagreement over the terms of his employment.  And bacon.”

Thor nodded. He then rushed forward, and before Loki could think to defend himself, or even raise the dagger he still had clutched in his hand, threw a left cross that took Loki off of his feet, crashed him into and through the door, back out into the snowy night. 

As he lay there in a familiar, post-Thor daze, Loki tried to push himself up, but found himself aloft again, and tossed back into the lodge. He practically

cartwheeled, and the idle thought that Thor never could make up his mind came to him, “Brother-“

“Don’t you ‘brother’ me, you little serpent.” Thor roared, lifting him and shaking him, not seeming to notice that Loki made no effort to protect himself, “Twice!  Twice you let me believe you dead.  Twice I wept for you!  Twice I mourned!  I blamed myself for not saving you, not protecting you, not-“

For Thor that was quite a lot of complicated speaking, and finally he just dropped Loki, falling atop him, punching over and over.

The pain was brilliant, sharp as glass and dull as boulders. But Loki couldn’t feel much of it.  He was far too numb, just as he had been when Charles had managed to get a few blows past his guard. That fight had been like a mongoose and a cobra, this was more like a bear crouching over a man who was simply letting himself be mauled. 

After a few minutes Thor stopped, and Loki wondered if his mighty brother was already winded from brutalizing his face, “Why will you not defend yourself?”

“Why bother?” Loki said, spitting blood to the side, “You always win anyway.”

Thor sat back on his haunches, and Loki slithered from under him, wiping gore and sweat from his eyes.

“That is not true. You have bested me now and then, and you have always gotten your licks in.  Why?”  His gaze narrowed as Loki stood and limped towards the cask, which had survived its fall.  There were still mugs hanging near the fireplace, and he blew the dust from one and proceeded to ruin a very nice scotch by pouring it roughly into the dirty receptacle.  Thor’s voice was lower, and more ominous, “Where is Mistress Walsh?  Loki?”

Loki took a huge drink, and then another, “I don’t know,” he whispered to the flames.

“What?”

“I don’t, I don’t-“ and then, too heartsick and in love for pride, he sobbed, an angry, broken sound, “I don’t know. She is somewhere with Baba Yaga, and she was so afraid, she was so afraid and miserable, and I let her go.  No!  I pushed her so hard she fell away from me.  I pushed her but I could still feel her – out somewhere, sick and scared and then this morning she was gone.  I couldn’t feel her anymore-“ For the first time in his life Loki could not speak, and he leant upon the hearth and wept.

Thor put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, still a bit amazed that he was here. And alive.  “Do you think she is dead?” He asked, with the tact that had made Thor a famed negotiator nowhere in the Nine Realms. 

“And why is she with Baba Yaga, anyway? I have not seen the great crone since the fourteenth century.”

Loki took off his suit jacket and used it to clear his face. “Well, brother, there by hangs a tale, the moral of which is no good deed goes unpunished, at least for those are not known for performing them.”

 

Late into the night Loki told Thor the full saga of Mistress Nora and the God of Lies – with judicious editing for content both prurient and liable to see him bound for the Isle of Silence. He did, with a great deal of side talking, manage to explain the matter of Lorelei’s visit without going into the theft. Loath as he was 

to admit it, Thor and the other children at Avengers Tower needed to be aware that the weight of Thanos’ gaze might soon be on Midgard again.

As the sky was turning the weak pink of false dawn Loki finished, his tale done, Thor’s questions mostly answered with, “And so I came here. I cannot bear to be in my home, where everything from the sight of our bed to her little mittens sitting on the table near the door makes me ache for her.   I deserve the pain, but I am too weak to stand up to it.”  He drained his…Loki had no idea how many mugs of scotch he had drunk over the course of the night, but then he also did not remember that the lodge was built on a merry-go-round that spun itself at odd times.

“Also,” he gestured to one of the chests in the far corner of the room, bound in copper and iron, ancient and deeply ingrained in runes that always made Thor’s head ache when he looked at them too long. “I am hoping something that I, or maybe even Cul, left in there might help me find her.  None of the Midgardian magics I have access to are strong enough to see past Baba Yaga’s.”  Loki waited for Thor to command him not to touch the chest, that he was not allowed to meddle with stronger powers while he was imprisoned here.

Thor nodded at him solemnly and said not a word about it.

“Why, why are you here, brother?” Loki asked.

“Trolls.”

Ah. Of course.

The reason that the then Prince Odin and his brother Cul had chosen this island to build their little Midgardian hunting lodge those millennia ago was to take advantage of a thin place between the worlds that existed near here. Because it was so isolated and had been mostly uninhabited very few humans stumbled through the thin place, but periodically through the years- especially during the times of the Northern Lights- creatures from other parts of reality would find themselves here.  A goblin now and then, a frost giant from time to time, a dragon on one memorable occasion, but mostly it was trolls.  Disgusting, huge, and hungry.  Most of the Scandinavian legends about these creatures came from the few hunters who had been unfortunate enough to come across one, but were fortunate enough to live.

After a while most of the monsters just wandered back through the thin place, or drowned in the icy ocean when they tried to make it to the mainland, but the Asgardian royal family had taken it upon themselves to hunt as many of those who remained before they could cause too much harm.

And for sport.

Over the centuries the number of the creatures had dropped dramatically. Even trolls were smart enough to know that if there is a place where trolls disappear, and then bits of them get thrown back through that place (mostly heads, but sometimes limbs or personal parts), then maybe they should not go there.

“I think there are five, ugly, wily brutes. I have been tracking them for two weeks and cannot find more than pieces of dead goats and sharks they have been catching.”

Loki stretched out in front of the fire, groaning. The pain from his face, and from the drink, were starting to become more urgent, but mostly he longed for sleep, “Give me a day to recover, and I will join you.  I am the better tracker.”

“Loki, I have-“

A small snort of sleep told Thor his baby brother could no longer hear him, “I have missed you. And hated you.  But mostly I love you, and I am glad you live.”

Thor carefully took a wool blanket lined with wolf-skin and covered Loki, even though he knew he did not feel the cold, and took himself to bed.


	13. You didn’t think it was gonna be that easy, did you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki Finds Nora. There will be singing.

For the next ten days Loki and Thor hunted troll.

There were seven of the creatures, unusual for the type. Whereas the typical troll was a mass of thundering stupidity wrapped in muscle and flab, each more gruesome than the last, these seven were everything but stupid.  Or at least one of them, Loki hazarded, the strongest and most dominant, was no fool and had cowed the others into following his lead.

They seemed determined to remain on the island, dining richly on reindeer, sea-life, and the odd farm animal that wandered into peril. They could not be blamed for it.  The troll home-world was as ugly, cultureless, and dull as a Midwestern shopping mall. 

And smelled worse, if such a thing could be imagined.

They caught the first, and smallest one when it had made the mistake of trying to…

Loki and Thor stood on the rise and watched the troll and the polar bear across the ice field. They both cocked their heads and furrowed their brows, Loki for once just as much at a loss as his brother.

“I don’t think he is trying to make a meal of the bear, brother,” Thor said, distress rising in his voice.

“No….”

“Is he… he cannot be…”

“I think he is…”

“Wooing?”

“I don’t think that is the term the bear would use, Thor.” There was a terrible sound, and a troll-scream, and then lots of blood.  “That round goes to her.  She is quite emphatic that no means no.”

“Yes.”

They let the bear play with her would-be suitor for a while before intervening so Loki could have a few words with the troll before they finished her work. The bear was quite determined to kill the troll for his rudeness, and eventually Thor just had to pick her up and fly her to a safe distance while Loki questioned the dying monster. 

 

For ten days Nora traveled through the past with Baba Yaga.

“Where are we going?” She asked each day as they climbed into the cab, a bit stiff after sleeping on the B.Y. sized tiny furniture in the mixer, but excited to be on the road.  It felt like she hadn’t been on a road trip in ages, and she was happy Mr. Rasmussen had been willing to let her take this time.  Then again Baba Yaga was an important client so it was to be expected.

An important, if annoyingly vague client.

“I can’t remember. Somewhere, some time.  Don’t you give me that look, little girl, when you get into your tenth millennia and you can recall every place you left something then you can give me That. Look,” poking a bony finger into Nora’s arm.

During those days Nora did most of the driving, while B.Y. stared out of the window, giving random directions and muttering to herself.  Nora was fairly certain that not only were they not consistently in the same time, but they were not in the same place, either.  One hour they would be traversing desert, which would change to mountains, and then cities, including one that appeared distinctly Victorian and another that was under siege by the Ottomans.

And, because radio reception became spotty at best, Baba Yaga told Nora to sing.

“What? I mean, what do you want me to sing?”

“Do I look like Spotify? Just sing.  It will help me stop thinking so hard and then I can maybe call it to mind.”

At first Nora was blank. Finally she just started on some standards, great American songbook stuff like I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm, and Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered, and Taking a Chance on Love.  Within a day or two she was a little sick of that, and B.Y. hadn’t made any requests other than ‘left turn,’ ‘right turn’, ‘don’t run over that duck’, so she switched to some folky stuff.

Good Night, Irene. The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.  The City of New Orleans.  Love is Our Cross to Bear.

Finally, running out of things she thought B.Y. might like, since the old woman didn’t respond much beyond occasionally tapping her fingers on the dash or nodding a bit, Nora just starting singing what she liked. The Devil and Me.  Lovers in a Dangerous Time.  Gone Cold.  I Know Its Wrong (But That’s Alright).  First We Take Manhattan.  The World Ender. 

Nora barely noticed that B.Y. had stopped tapping, and nodding, and staring out of the window, and was just staring at her. By the ninth day when Nora was in the midst of a Nick Cave medley: Breathless, Green Eyes, Supernaturally, Into My Arms, Black Hair, and Up Jumped the Devil, (Nora hadn’t even realized she knew that many Nick Cave songs), B.Y. waved her arms, startling her so badly she almost ran them into a ditch.

“ENOUGH, ENOUGH! I get it!  Pull over the next parking lot, girl, I need a drink.”

 

For ten nights Loki hunted Nora.

It was fortunate that Uncle Cul never threw out anything, because as he rooted through the lower depths of the warded chest in which were stored most of the magical items and components kept in the lodge Loki found all sorts of things he had never noticed before. There were knots made of bloodstained clothing of various provenances, dozens of caps that conferred various powers on the wearer for a price, two pairs of necropants, phylacteries and wolfssegen and more rings than even Kali had fingers.  Notebooks bound in various leathers, all in code, and marked with special inks.   An old brown paper bag filled with gemstones, some mystical, some just pretty.  Bottles of dried herbs and animal parts. 

Dozens of paperclips were pooled on the bottom of the trunk.

For ten nights, surrounded by items of power, books open, Loki searched. He chanted, incanted, sang, and eventually threatened.  He set fires and poured potions.  He bled, and sacrificed, and scarred. 

And on the tenth night he found her.

In an Oklahoma honky-tonk in 1948.

 

“Holy shit, that’s Hank Williams!”

“You go dance, little girl. Baba needs a whiskey.”

 

Loki threaded through the crowd in his Magnus form. Even if he was barely visible while astral projecting, and he was decades away from Midgardian infamy, his own form would stick out too much here.  Even Magnus was getting side-eyed by the few people in the crowd who were sensitive enough to be aware of his presence.

He mentally adjusted his suit for the period, and regretfully dispensed with Magnus’s beard. He did, however, like the eyeglasses.

Nora was here somewhere. If he were in his body he could find her immediately, but as it was he had to settle for using his eyes alone.

He found Baba Yaga first.

The hag sat alone at a large, round table, sipping a water-glass full of bourbon. No one in the crowd seemed to notice her outlandish attire, but then she was in full possession of her powers here, actually being in this time.

Loki stood over her, glaring.

“Sit down, baby god. I’m not scared of One-Eye, and I wasn’t scared of that blueberry Popsicle that donated the sperm that made you, and I am certainly not scared of you.  Especially like that!  You never could time-travel worth a fuck.”

“Where is-“

She cut him off, gesturing to the stage. “Up front.  If she was any more up front she’d be backstage.  Don’t worry, she isn’t going anywhere.  Except maybe into that skinny boy’s pants, if she can manage it.”

Loki made a growling noise and started forward, but Baba Yaga put a hand on his arm, “I said SIT!” she shouted, slamming him into the seat in his shock at her being able to touch him in this form. “You like that trick, heh?  Maybe I will teach it to you some day if you stop being an ass for five minutes.  Don’t worry about Little Nora.  She doesn’t sleep with other women’s men, even if she might want to.  You know she is honorable.”  The last word was accompanied by a scornfully affectionate laugh.

Before Loki could respond, the woman in question bounced out of the crowd, a look of ecstatic joy on her face, “B.Y., give me money for a Coke. You can add it to my bill.  Hey, boss!  What are you doing here?”

Loki’s heart beat so fast and loud, and his blood vibrated hard enough that for a moment he couldn’t understand what she had said. Nora.  Nora.  Was she really that beautiful?  Was her voice truly so sweet?  Yes, and yes, and yes.

What?

Boss?

She gave him the pleasant smile that you gave an employer who you liked as well as counted on for a livelihood and nothing more. It was no act.  Nora was no game player, and her poker face was good, but well known to him.

“Nora-“

“Thank you for lending me to B.Y. for this trip. I promise to make up the time, somehow.  Goddamn, Hank fucking Williams!”  She snatched a few coins from B.Y.’s hands.  “Tell Mrs. Beekman and Charles I said hi.  Did you call Marissa for me?”

Loki nodded, blank-eyed.

Nora bopped back into the crowd, and Loki stared after her and his heart. “What have you done to her, you rancid pile?”  But there was no venom his tone, only shock.

“Hardly anything, I just made her forget you exist. Well, that Loki exists.  She remembers her boss.  And what was his name?  Eddie.  Just no Loki.”

“Why?” He rasped out, not daring to look at the old woman.

“She was such bad company. Missing you, hardly talking, sick from fear.  It was boring, and if I am going to travel with someone for over a month I need some distraction.”

Loki turned, his mouth open, “You eradicated me from Nora’s mind because you wanted someone to chat with?”

“Well, that and I was getting a little worried. She was shaking herself to pieces, so afraid.  You are a real prick, you know that mischief?  A real prick.”

Loki started to hyperventilate, “I-“

“I got you out of her mind so she could be happy for a while. Have a nice trip.  And she was happy to be rid of you.  It was easy.”

“No. Nora- Nora loves me.”

“She does,” B.Y. drained her glass, “She loves you, and you love her. And you are a prick because you don’t trust her worth a damn and the poor thing knows it.”

Calmer, and on better ground, Loki snorted, “I trust Nora more than I trust any other creature in all of the Realms.”

“If that isn’t damning with faint praise I don’t know what is. Look, I prefer this terrible garbage I am drinking to any of the even worse garbage they serve in this pit, but it still makes it garbage.”

“I-“

“You don’t trust her to come to you on her own, so you make sure she can’t work, nearly loses her house. You don’t trust her to stay, so you lie about people trying to kill you.  You don’t trust her to know who you really are, but that got taken out your hands, didn’t it?  You don’t trust her to know her own mind and run her own life so you lock her up like a dog in a kennel.  You don’t trust her with your actions or your reasons when you do something wrong.  And you don’t trust her not to run away from you, so you refuse to help her with that fear she has.  That fear that is your fault, Morozko.  What woman would put up with such a demeaning kind of love?  You aren’t THAT pretty.  No one is.”

Loki said nothing. What could he say?  It was all true, and more.  “How did you know about the business with her house?”

“You have shitty password protection.”

“Ah.” He said nothing and then, “Nora trusts me.”

“No, she might have trusted you. But I think not so much anymore.  Well, not so much if she knew you existed.  Go home, little god.  I will bring her back in twenty-five days and then we will see what we will see.”

Loki wanted to rage. He wanted to scream and howl and destroy. 

He did not.

Instead he stood and let the eddying motion of the crowd draw him to the front where Nora swayed, her eyes huge with hero worship over the skinny singer who was yodeling his heart-break, “ _my leanin' post is done left and gone / She's long gone, and now I'm lonesome blue.”_

“Amazing. Right?”  Nora gave him a dazzling smile, her eyes bright.  But not the bright that was just for him.  That bright no longer existed.

“Enjoy the rest of your trip, Nora,” he whispered to her.

She just nodded, still smiling, and turned away from him.


	14. The price you pay for bringing up either my Asgardian or Jotunn heritage as a negative is... I collect your fucking head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor frets, Loki thinks, Nora drives. There will be apples.

Thor paced back and forth in front of Loki’s unoccupied form, punching a fist into the opposite palm a hundred times, and then switching hands. His little brother had been out of his body for hours. Thor had no idea if that was a long time for such a thing or not.  Back on Asgard when Loki, or their mother, had travelled astrally they had had the decency to do it in privacy, not in the center of the main hall where everyone had to step around them and fret.

Waiting was hard.

Thor wondered if should… tap him. Or would that be dangerous? Like waking a sleepwalker.  Although was that even true?  Or should he speak?

“Brother? Brother I am about to make waffles.  You may wish to rejoin me.  They will be delicious.  The secret is cornmeal.  There.  I have told you my greatest secret.  Are you not pleased?”

Loki did not respond.

“Very well. Then I shall eat all of the waffles myself, I fear.”

If the threat of missing food was not enough to rouse Loki, then he was far afield indeed.

Sighing, Thor lowered himself to the divan beside Mjolnir and settled in to wait.

 

Loki wandered. It was pleasant to be without a body for a time.  To not feel the pressing needs of his hungers.  He drifted along through starry night and cool forests.  He briefly visited Asgard, confounding Heimdall, who knew that there was something that eluded his sight. 

The All-Father looked tired. And, perhaps, lonely.  One of Frigga’s wraps was draped over the foot of the royal bed, unmoved since her death.  For the first time in his life, Loki felt that there was something that he and his…that he and Odin shared, a certain pain.

Asgard had never seemed so beautiful, cool and serene even as it was being rebuilt after Malakith’s attack. How Loki wished he had met the Dark Elf, for so many reasons.

Asgard had never looked so little like home.

He took himself to Jotunheim.

It was still ugly.

And yet. And yet there was something in that ugliness, something that was hidden by it.  An unusual beauty made of colorless, rough shapes and buildings that seemed to grow from some joint will of the earth and the creatures that walked upon it.

From ruins of the King’s Siege, he could hear wailing and prayer. The Jotunns, crude and even more scornful of feeling than the Asgardians, still mourned their fallen king.

Loki thought of Laufey, of the shock on his face when he realized he was betrayed. Shock and resignation, as if he had seen this day would come for over a millennia, since the end of the war with Asgard.  Since he left Loki to die.

He wandered to the fallen temple where Odin had found him, pressing spectral fingers to the enormous altar he had been left upon, a final offering to the gods that had failed the Jotunns in that age. “I am not sorry that I killed you, father.  But I do, perhaps, regret that you are dead.”

Vanaheim was still the loveliest Realm, even after being visited by the nasty little war that he had sparked if not engaged in. Svartalfheim, where he had died again, was a blasted waste, never to be otherwise if the All-father had his way.  And why should he not?  He chose not to visit Sutur’s realm.  Even in astral form he dreaded the fire.  There were too many of his victims in Hel.  Niflheim’s cold mists hid nothing but nothingness itself.

In Chicago Charles had made remarkable progress repairing the extravagant damage of their brawl. Most of the glass had been replaced, as well as the soft furnishings.  There were certain rarities that were irreplaceable, though.   A Degas.  Several Tiffany lamps.  Yet another museum quality Turkish carpet from the master bedroom.

The unofficial mistress of the dwelling.

Loki leaned in the doorway of the kitchen and watched Django watch Mrs. Beekman make cookie dough to freeze until the animal became aware of him. Even the sight of the vile little cur trying to hump his incorporeal leg was not enough to lift his spirits.

Finally, at a loss, he returned to his body.

 

“Thor! Thor!  Wake up!”

Thor jolted.  Loki leaned over him, frowning. 

“What in the name of all that is corrupt and foul happened here?” Loki gestured to the great hall of the hunting lodge.  “It looks as if someone up ended several fraternities into the room and then made a mess.”

Thor looked about. There were some empty bottles, yes, and some remnants of food eaten.  Perhaps more than some.  But –

“You have been gone for a week!”

“I was?” Loki frowned and then shrugged, “Perhaps I was.  How goes the hunt?”

“I have been here. Guarding you.”  Thor was indignant.

“From what?”

“From- from-… anything really.”

“Thank you?”

“You are welcome. Did you find Mistress Nora?  Is she well?” 

“I did, and she is, perhaps for the first time in years.” Loki did not sound as pleased by that as Thor might have assumed he would, but then his brother had always been a mystery to him.  And everyone else.  Except, perhaps, Mistress Nora. 

“So this is good?”

“I hope so. Get your gear, we are finding those trolls.”

 

After 1948 Baba Yaga, fed up at trying to remember whatever it was she was looking for, declared that they were simply going to go back to where she last had it and fetch it from there.

“Isn’t that, you know, dangerous?” Nora asked, “And that?”  She said, pointing out of the windshield to a massive black storm that B.Y. was driving them straight into. 

“That,” B.Y. said, “is World War II, and we have to drive through it to get to where we are going. It is going to suck, and driving through world changing cataclysms takes forever!  Bah!”

Winds buffeted the mixer, making her groan. “Shut up, Truck!  Or no sweet corn for your supper,” B.Y. threatened, swatting the steering wheel.

“What about the other thing? Should you be going back to see yourself?  Isn’t that going to cause problems in the timeline or something?”  Nora rocked forward, nearly hitting her head on the dash.  She stroked a vent, “Darling Truck, beautiful Truck, might I have a seatbelt?  I will get you some plums when we arrive in China.”

A nice, sturdy seatbelt wrapped itself gently around Nora’s waist and shoulder.

“Suck up. And no, Dr. Who, I am not going to create a paradox, if that is what you are afraid of.  This is magic, not pseudoscience... I think.  I haven’t done this before.  But it will be fine.”

 

It took the Odinssons a day to find the next troll. This one was larger than the last, and just intelligent enough to not decide to date rape an apex predator in her own habitat.  They found it on the shore of the Greenland Sea, just above the Ny-Alesund research town, coming out of the surf dragging a badly mangled shark’s corpse behind it.

“This one is too close to habitation. I like that not.”  Thor muttered as they chased the now running troll as it panicked and headed towards the town, shark held high over its head, dripping water and gore.

“Imagine how the poor scientists will feel.” Loki called back, his legs churning through snow too slowly for his pleasure. 

When they finally ran the monster down it was nearly within sight of the outbuildings. Thor drove a knee between its shoulder-blades, pushing its face into the snow, while Loki crouched next to its huge head, which was 90% nose and had eyes the size and shape of kidney beans.  “Where is your master, little troll?  The clever one, the one who brings you to good hunting and tells you not to fear those who hunt you in return?”  He growled at it in its own, foul-tasting language.

It simply said no over and over, just as the would-be bear rapist had. Apparently they dreaded their leader more than whatever Loki could do to it. 

Which would normally have been a mistake, but today he could hear Nora’s voice in his head, and while he longed to harm the creature endlessly, to easy some his pain in its entrails and screams, instead this time he took her council and killed it quickly.

“It was looking in that direction,” he pointed inland and a bit south, “so I would say that should be our destination.” Loki stared at the frozen land and the hills, and then with a sigh, sat and pulled off his boots, then stood, gripping his toes in to the frosted grass beneath the snow, stretching his neck and loosening his shoulders, his spear at the ready.

Thor looked concerned, “What are you doing, brother?”

Blue crept over Loki’s skin, from a pale shade to deep sapphire, his eyes like fire-sparks, “Accepting that things are what they are, and so am I.” And with not entirely sad laugh he ran, flying over the snow like a deer bounding the forest, Thor grimly trudging far behind.

 

For uncountable days and nights B.Y. and Nora took turns driving through the endless string of maelstroms that made up World War II. Nora sang, and B.Y. read snatches from various books:  Spanish poetry, Germanic grimoires (which she found hilarious. “The Germans!  They think you can make magic AND schnitzel. You can only do one.  Pricks.”), mathematic equations, recipes, even the odd play.  She had a deep distaste for novels, however, and when Nora found a copy of “The Amazing Adventures of Cavalier and Clay” in the back she tossed it out of the window and it landed somewhere in Italy during the battle of Monte Cassino, causing all sorts of strange things to happen to the American soldier who found it and brought it home to Louisiana.

When the storms grew too bad they would huddle in the mixer, sleeping fitfully. Because they were unable to stop in an actual place or time they were forced to eat what was in the tiny galley.  Nora got to where just the thought of another cup of tea with strawberry jam or bowl of kasha was going to make her scream. 

“Oh, thank god…” she breathed one day, finding an apple that was just sitting in a dish on one of the endless sideboards full of china that lined the mixer. Nora had just picked it up, already tasting the crisp fruit when B.Y. appeared at her side, slapping her hand hard.

“NO! That is not for eating!”  Nora dropped the apple, which landed with a surprisingly heavy clang back on the small metal plate. 

“What?”

“Just leave it alone.”

Nora looked longingly at the fruit where it spun in the dish.

That was weird. There was an image, maybe on the dish itself.  She could just barely make it out…. It was snow, lots of snow, and someone was running through it, a banner of black hair streaming behind him as he raced towards a wintery forest.

Nora didn’t know why she knew it was a man, given the graceful figure and the hair it could just as easily be a woman, but there was something decidedly masculine about the shoulders, and the long, elegant, shockingly bare feet that she could see as the image grew closer and clearer.

“He must be freezing, his feet have gone blue,” she said, leaning as close as she could without distorting the image. He had stopped just outside of the tree line, as if waiting for someone, and Nora willed him to turn around ….

He was just beginning to turn his back to the forest and his face towards Nora when B.Y. reached out and stopped the apple, “Enough of that. We need to get back on the road.”

She grabbed Nora’s arm and led her, unwillingly, out into the storm.


	15. Once Upon a  Time in China

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Nora both make some new friends.

“Somehow I thought Shanghai in the 30’s would be more, I don’t know, glamorous...” Nora mused as she and B.Y. climbed gingerly in the dark over a pile of rubble and garbage that blocked an alleyway.  At a distance there were a few lights from larger buildings where maybe some parts of normal life were going on, but here the evidence of the Japanese bombing and the panicked evacuation of anyone who could afford to go were clear, even at night.

B.Y. snorted, “You want Noel Coward at the Long Bar, you’re traveling with the wrong witch. Those fancy folks give me the runs.”  Nora had just stepped in what she hoped was a cooking pot and not a chamber one, when B.Y. grabbed her hard and yanked her against a wall.

“What, are you fucking nuts?” She growled.

“I am just around that corner, so stay quiet and still….”

What? Nora peered around the corner of the building carefully and saw two figures standing in the faint light coming from an open door.  She couldn’t quite make them out, and finally B.Y. gave a great sigh and fished a pair of drugstore sunglasses from her coat, motioning for Nora to put them on.

Suddenly Nora could see them as if they were just a few feet away. One was a young woman, maybe even still a teenager, clearly not Chinese, dressed in a cheongsam and wearing stylized make-up to give her an East Asian appearance.  She was clearly cold and terrified, and kept looking down at the huge wicker basket that sat at her feet and shaking.

The other figure was, indeed, B.Y.- dressed in a 20s flapper dress, dripping with fringe and frayed beading, a tatty sable tossed over her shoulders, but still wearing soldiers boots and a babushka, although this one had a ruby tiara holding it in place.

They were speaking in quick Russian that Nora couldn’t follow at all, even though she had been picking up a profane word here and there over the last few weeks. Finally, B.Y. nodded and handed the girl a packet of papers and small bag, patting her fondly on the shoulder, “Practice your English, Lilya, the Brits only speak vacation languages.”  The girl nodded and then fell to her knees, pressing her face into B.Y.’s dress and sobbed something Nora couldn’t make out.

“No, little one, no, you cannot go back home. Anyway, home is not always a place,” she gently helped the girl to her feet, gently patting the round of her stomach while drying her tears, “Sometimes home is where ever you are when you are truly not alone.”

The girl sniffled, and then picked up the basket and carefully handed it to Baba Yaga, and then disappeared through the open door.

As soon as the girl had closed the door, the B.Y. who was speaking to her pulled out a cigar and lit it, and then called down the alley in Russian, “Я чувствую тебя там, меня.”

Nora’s B.Y. stepped out, “Like you said to Lilya, practice your English. Nora’s an American, she doesn’t even speak vacation languages.”

“What’s a Nora?”

Nora stepped out and waved, just as her B.Y. pulled a Lugar on her younger self. “We’ll be taking that.  Nora, go get the basket.”

“You’re robbing yourself at gun point?   What the fuck?”  Nora had seen a lot of weird stuff over the last months, but this easily took the ‘most surreal moment’ cake.  There was even ‘my brain is fried’ ice cream to go with it.

“What do you think happens if you shoot me?” 30’s B.Y. said, sounding genuinely curious and not at all angry.

“I don’t know… but I am sort of curious to find out. Could be interesting…”  Current B.Y. made as if to pull the trigger and they mirrored each other with a scary smile.

“WAIT! Woah!  No, no, you are not stranding me in World War II China because you are wondering if you might be committing retro-cide, or are just punching a hole in reality.”  Nora stomped down the alley, grabbing the basket, slinging it over her shoulder.   “Thank you.”

“Don’t be a silly child. Truck knows to take you home if I should have an accident.  Or get bored and go away.”

30s B.Y. nodded, giving Nora a good hard look, “You are stupid brave, girl, but not stupid. Nice quality.  I will remember you now that we have met.”

“Sure.” Nora said, backing away.  The basket was shockingly heavy, and something rolled slightly inside of it.

The two Baba Yagas saluted each other, still looking like they might be willing to destroy the world, or maybe just themselves, just to see what happened, until Nora finally grabbed her B.Y.’s arm and dragged the tiny woman back over the garbage to where they had hidden the idling mixer.

“So why didn’t you just tell me that you needed me to come with you because I was already here?” Nora asked, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Because I didn’t know you were here until just now. Or I think I didn’t know.   Maybe I knew, who cares?  Go north.”

“I care. I care about all sorts of things, but apparently none of that matters to anyone.  Does it?”  B.Y. was silent, fussing with the elaborate knot that held the giant basket closed, “DOES IT?”  Nora yelled, pounding the steering wheel with her fist, “DOES IT MATTER WHO I-“ Nora stopped yelling, and then whispered, “I mean, does _what_ I care about matter at all?”

B.Y. looked at her, a bit surprised. “Maybe.”

 

The next three trolls were surprisingly easy to catch and dispatch. One was sleeping under a pile of goat carcasses, snoring loud enough to shake the ground.  Thor simply hammered his head into bits, the troll never waking.

The other two, huge creatures who shared the same mis-sized eyes and shock of red hair, were fighting over a tree trunk that was the perfect size and shape to make a club. Their tug of war was interrupted by Loki’s spear shooting through the back of one and into the belly of the other.  He wrenched up, sending viscera gushing into the snow.  Thor snorted.  It was like the old days, even if his brother was a strange color.

The last two proved wily, and the Odinssons spent much of the next day sleeping in the snow, Loki learning to refine his gifts in manipulating the ice and cold to the point where he could create a temporary dwelling for them in minutes.

Maybe having a Jotunn for a brother could have advantages, Thor thought, as he cooked an artic hare over a sparking fire.

 

Moving the right direction through WWII was not as difficult as swimming against it’s current, and Truck made much better time heading towards the Nora's era. They also weren’t moving as far physically, just a hair and a hank over a thousand miles, so it was only a night or two in the back mixer with fresh supplies. 

“Thank god they actually had coffee in Shanghai,” Nora thought, as she crept away from the couch she had been crippling herself sleeping on for weeks, finally learning her way around well enough to not knock anything over and wake B.Y. She would stand near the side-board and silently spin the apple, hoping for another glimpse of a figure running through the snow.  Finally, the afternoon that they were resting before the last move through the years, she saw him again. 

He stood looking at something in the distance, dressed in a long green tunic and leather leggings, his feet bare, long toes crunching snow and ice, his arms and hands wrapped in blackened raw hide like some ancient boxer with only his boney, refined fingers free, his yard of blacker than burned wood hair braided at the temples to keep it from his eyes, a scruff of equally black beard making his eyes glow green as jade. Everything about him made her ache deep in her chest and between her legs.

Nora stared until the sight of him was unbearable, and then went back to pretending to sleep.

 

Loki had bound the second to last troll with a string the width of an eyelash that he whipped around its ankles, taking it head first into a snow bank. That was hiding a large number of rocks.  It moaned and tried to reach up to nurse a few of its noses but he quickly hog tied it, rolling it onto its back so its hands were trapped by its bulk.

He could see why it was the second in command, since it clearly had more brains than the other trolls they had killed. About a large number of them, one for each of its nine heads.  Loki shuddered. Each was uglier than the last, and considering the looks of the prettiest face, that was quite the accomplishment.

Not only was it more gruesome and more clever than the other trolls, this one chose a tack that in all of his centuries Loki had never experienced from such a creature before. It begged for its life.

“Please, please God of Lies,” it rolled over and somehow managed to kneel. In that position it was the same height as Loki.  “Sky Strider, Shape-Changer, Sly-One, Mischief Maker have mercy.”

Loki walked around the helpless monster, always facing it, “You beg for mercy? Which I am, of course, famous for?”

“Please, God of Stories,” and Loki hated himself for it, but he preened a bit at his favorite appellation, “I have no reason to deserve mercy, or expect it yet I beg all of the same.” Each head took a turn in speaking, their voices tuned in a surprisingly pleasant way, each to compliment the last.

“You are an eloquent beast. Where did you learn such charms?”

“From my wife, the most hideous and clever of all Troll-maidens. All of the trolls in Trollheim desired her to wife, but I alone loved her and knew her true worth and not just her great allure of her vast ugliness, so I alone won her.  Hers are the seven most disgusting heads ever seen in the history of repulsion.”

“How nice for you, er,” Loki stopped for a moment, counting. “Um, you say seven heads your wife has?  I believe you have nine… how does that work exactly?”

The troll looked at itself, head to head, and then shrugged, “One adapts, taking turns, and sometimes it, well… pleases our wife to see us kiss each other…” the monster trailed off, eighteen cheeks blushing, “To please her pleases us. It is little enough.”

Loki laughed, throwing his head back, “Oh, of course it does.” He reached out and grabbed the whip-like string that held the creature fast, knocking it off of its feet, “I will drag you back to the thin place, and you may try to cross back to Trollheim.  Maybe you will end up in the wrong world.  Maybe you will fly off into space and freeze.  But if you ever return to Midgard I will cut off one head of yours each year for near a decade, and keep you alive until the last ‘snick’ of my knife.”

“Thank you, father of monsters!” It murmured to him, faces all dragging through the snow for the miles it took Loki to reach the thin place between the worlds and toss through, surprised to find he hoped it would end up back in Trollheim and the bed of his revolting mate.

 

Nora wondered why it was that she only seemed to end up in cold places. And how it was that, having been in St. Petersburg, Winnipeg, Siberia, and Michigan, Harbin was still shockingly, nearly terrifyingly, cold.

And ugly.

Even in the midst of its winter festival, where gorgeous ice sculptures of mystical creatures, intricate buildings, and gardens of snow flowers and frost trees, where multicoloured lights shone against the black of the frigid sky, it was overwhelmed by the industrial look of too many structures having been built too quickly for any aesthetic considerations.

Poured concrete and purely utilitarian design, playing against the few older Chinese and Russian style buildings that remained from earlier days, were just headache inducing. It was like a rather pretty girl who had stretch marks so deep it looked like she had been cut to pieces and never healed right.

Nora shuddered, from both the looks and the cold, and huddled deeper into the layers of sweaters she had borrowed from B.Y. stomping her feet and sipping at a paper cup of tea that she was expecting to freeze solid at any moment, where she stood in the shadow of what would be the largest and ugliest office tower of them all when it was finished.

At least Baba Yaga had bought them some amazing sausages from a street vendor, Nora thought, taking a snapping bite of one.

“Which will be surely added to my bill,” she sighed.   She wondered if her insurance covered the prosthetic feet she was sure to need if they didn’t get moving soon. Finally, after what seemed like hours, B.Y. motioned for Nora to follow her down yet another alley, where she gave a barely audible knock on a loading dock door. A squirrely man with a tousle of hair that had been dyed violently red let them in, all the while muttering in Mandarin to B.Y. who ignored him and motioned for Nora to follow her inside.

The pain when sensation started to return to her feet was the best thing Nora had felt in weeks, and steam actually boiled off her clothing in the hot dock area. The man kept muttering and gesturing for them to get in the freight elevator.  “You carry the basket,” B.Y. said, slinging the object into Nora’s arms, making her double over, “and whatever you do don’t drop it.”

And up they rose.

 

The top floor of the tower had been completed, but was unfinished on the inside, and it took B.Y. a bit of looking through dry wall stacks and equipment to find the door to the roof. Nora sighed, unsurprised that she was NOT going to get to stay in the nice, warmish space, and she trudged after Baba Yaga, the heavy basket clutched to her chest.

The cold was like razor blades dipped in a margarita were being thrown at her, sharp, monstrously cold, and then burning and stinging like ice and booze in an open cut. Her feet immediately went numb again, and there was a possibility that the shock of the cold would give her heart failure.

Lovely, warm heart failure.

B.Y. had been uncharacteristically quiet this whole time, and she grabbed Nora’s arm and pulled her to the center of the roof. A figure stood there, slim and impassive in the face of the weather and the dark, glowing all in white, from her boots to her thin leather jacket.

When they grew close the woman turned to face them. In spite of being Asian, if not, probably Chinese, she was utterly white, including her long hair and eyelashes.  Nora would have thought she was an albino, except her eyes were simply a very pale gold rather than red. 

She was also inhumanly beautiful. Which meant that she probably wasn’t human.

Nora sighed. It was getting lonely, being so human when hardly anyone else seemed to be.

B.Y. started to say something to the woman in something that sounded like it was Chinese, but not Mandarin, but she raised an elegant hand, speaking English with a public school accent, “Perhaps we should not be rude and exclude your companion from our conversation, hag? Or do you not wish her to know of your perfidy?  She smell of honor and honesty, two aromas that died from your person eons ago.”

To Nora’s endless shock B.Y. blushed.

Deep scarlet.

“Yuan Pan, I have brought-“

Before B.Y. could continue Pan lifted an elegant hand (with a few extra finger joints), “Wait. He arrives.”

Nora looked back to the door, but it remained closed. Meanwhile, a sudden, buffeting wind whipped against the side of the building, making a low howl through the empty, unfinished floors and causing it to tremble.  She held the basket more tightly, and followed the line of Ms. Yuan’s gaze to the north.

There, swimming through the sky as gracefully as a school of fish banking through a reef, was a creature sinuous as a snake, long as a river, black as rich soil, gleaming with fiery gold. It wrapped itself around the structure, its mighty head gently laid upon the roof, its calm, weary green and silver eyes taking them in.

Yuan knelt, a hand to her breast, “My master.”

It was a really fucking big dragon.

“Oh, of course,” Nora whispered, “Of course it is.”


	16. The Biggest "R" I feel is Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora has a conversation. There will be noodles.

The dragon spoke.

Or, perhaps more correctly, Nora heard the dragon’s voice in her head, as its mouth did not move, which was a comfort when she was standing a few feet from what had to be fangs the size of most of her body.

Its voice was like the sound of the sea slowly eroding stone.

“I greet your venerable age, Baba Yaga, your craft, and your wisdom. But not your character, which I fear is low in nature.”

Nora knew, without knowing how she knew, that Baba Yaga was hearing some ancient version of Russian, and Yuan Pan was likewise hearing whatever dialect was from her home.   B.Y. had dropped her head and started staring at her boot toes the second the dragon had arrived, but now she looked up, gulping a bit, and started to answer in Russian.

“Silence.” The word was quiet, and polite, and not a request.  “Your explanations are meaningless, your excuses beneath you.  You knew the harm you would cause by taking it, the damage for countless creatures of the sea AND earth AND air.  The balance of all things from here to the artic has been undone enough by the acts of man, but to have those who are meant to guard our great mother be neutered at such a time by the interference of a foreign hag is unforgivable!”  The calm, wise voice grew ragged with deep, angry grief.

B.Y. looked like she wanted to fall to her knees, but her pride asserted itself and she met the dragon’s eyes, sneering and crossing her arms, “Трахни себя, если жаль не достаточно хорошо.”

The immense creature lifted a great, five-clawed limb and Nora tried desperately to not pee her pants, knowing that in this cold she would probably freeze to death if she did. “You are rude as well as a thief and a subverter of the once loyal.  I will free your slave and the world of the burden of your deceit.”

“Hey! I may not be a witch or a god or a big fu- I mean very big dragon, but I am REALLY, REALLY not a slave,” Nora shouted without thinking. 

And abruptly realized that maybe, just maybe all of those people who had told her that she wasn’t safe on her own might have had a point.

“Oh, god, sorry, that was rude, too. And you’re right, she is rude but I don’t think I am, usually. I was raised better than that.  Mostly.  It’s just been a very stressful lately.  For a while now,” Nora babbled, “I apologize, um, sir.  I’m Nora Walsh,” she started to extend her hand and realized that was pretty stupid, “from Chicago?  Do you know where that is?  Anyway, I am just traveling with B.Y.- Baba Yaga- while her apprentice is doing some family thing.  Except, well, I think I am traveling with her because that was what happened when I met her in Shanghai during the war.  I think.  Time travel, right?”  On and on she heard words fall out of her mouth and couldn’t seem to make them stop.

'I am going to get eaten', Nora thought.

There was a bit of silence, and then a soft, _eheheheheheh_ echoed deep in her head, growing louder.

The dragon was laughing.

It laughed in a rusty way, as if this was something that it had little cause to do, and Yuan Pan looked askance at Nora, which scared her almost as much as the huge claws and teeth. She had a sense that the woman could throw her from the roof or offer to buy her a beer with the same level of affect or concern.

“Your pardon for my rudeness, tiny maid, Madame Walsh. I am Huánghǎi de Shǒuhù Lóng, called Xunsu.” 

Pan’s look turned to shock. Clearly some sort of protocol was being breached, “My master, this woman is not-“

“My beloved acolyte, my Yuan, Madame Walsh has travelled far and in bad company for our service, aware of it or no. Moreover, though she trembles before me, she is unbowed by her fear.  And I am not her master.”

Abruptly, terrifyingly, the creature pulled itself the rest of the way up onto the roof, just barely fitting in in a circle, its head closer to her so it could observe all parts of her, mentally frowning.

 _I am not going to burst into tears_ , Nora thought. _I am not going to run_.  Not that she could go anywhere.  The stress of the creature’s regard was like a pressure that made it hard to breathe, and the fear of something so much greater than she was, something she couldn’t fight, was painfully familiar.

“Please, would you please-“ Nora started to choke out, and the stress was gone as quickly as it came.

“My pardon again, Madame Walsh, but there is something around your aura, something dangerous. Something that I know from the aether and the earth’s fear, I only wished to be sure it was not you.”

“I was at the Battle of New York, so maybe that?”

Xunsu made a soft noise that in a less dignified creature might have been a snort. “How delightful mortals are.   You have been meddled with, your body by one creature, and you mind by that one,” he gestured toward BY.  “But not your heart.  Your heart has remained your own domain,” his voice was very soft and sympathetic.

Nora felt a strange, but profound relief at that pronouncement.

“Um, I believe this is yours, sir,” she felt a rumble of soft reproof.

“I have given you my personal name, Madame Walsh,” although the tone was kind, it brooked no argument, only obedience.

“Xunsu,” she pronounced it badly enough to make Pan and B.Y. wince, “I believe this is yours,” she said again, holding out the basket, her arms shaking under its weight and her own nerves.

“Pan,” the dragon said, and the beautiful woman, her face for the first time showing emotions: eager joy, pained longing, and hope as she took the basket gently from Nora's hands. “Open it please.”

Pan nodded and placed it upon down, carefully untying the silk scarf that had been used to keep the basket closed. Hands shaking, she opened the lid.

A light of silvery whiteness, like a concentrated essence of the moonlight, shone forth in a warm, silken wave, illuminating the night.

“Oh, oh please do give it to me,” Xunsu murmured, sounding very young for something so terribly old.

Pan reached deep in the basket and pulled out a pearl. No, not a pearl, but _the_ pearl, the very heart of all things precious and rare and blessed.  Bowing, she held over her head on flattened palms, and Huánghǎi de Shǒuhù Lóng took it with great care between two of his great claws, holding it to the sky where it took the place of the moon.

 

“Why the hell did you steal that thing? What exactly is wrong with you anyway?”  Nora asked, swatting B.Y.’s arm as they crunched through the frozen crust of snow heading to the nearest bar, which turned out to be a very authentic British pub in the Holiday Inn.  Yeah, because my brain isn’t broken enough, Nora thought.

“Why? Why ask why?  I thought it was good idea.  I thought I could trade it for something else.  I thought it was pretty.”  Baba Yaga made a vague waving motion at Nora’s face, when she finally answered, after drinking a row of whiskey shots and ordered her second round.  In China if you wanted to drink destructively that was your own business.  “I don’t remember why picked this housecoat when I got dressed this morning, so you expect me to remember why I stole the moon eighty some years ago?  Bah.  I am too old for my life.”  And she drank.

Nora slowly sipped a rarely found outside of Yorkshire ESB and watched the ancient woman’s head grow lower, “I’ve never seen you get drunk before.”

“I don’t usually let myself get drunk, little girl, but even for me almost being eaten by a great fucking dragon is an original experience. And so is guilt. And that is in experience I could have done without.  Regret and immortality do not mix well.  Now shush, mama needs to be much, much drunker.”

The cover band had just finished up for the night, and Nora wandered to the bar, ordering fries and another beer, and for a few minutes she felt like she was at the Red Lion Pub in Lincoln Park instead of the one in Harbin, watching Claire flirt with Colin the owner while she demolished a bottle of cheap scotch.

A Manhattan was slid in front of her, “I didn’t order this.”

“I thought you would be more of brown liquor drinker,” Pan said, gracefully alighting on the barstool next to Nora, “Or would you prefer an Old Fashioned? They are quite drinkable here, but only if you get one made with brandy.”

“How Wisconsin for a Brit bar. I’m good with this, thank you,” Nora saluted her with the drink and took a sip.  Not bad, even if she would have preferred less vermouth.

Pan received a champagne cocktail, and they drank for a few minutes without speaking, the sound of a Cantonese remake of a Raspberries hit from ages ago and the clink of the bartender washing glasses the only sounds in the otherwise empty bar.

“My master sends you a message, that you should not trust Baba Yaga. That she does not mean to give you up.  She likes your company too well.”

“No, we had a deal. Forty one days, sorry, forty days plus one and she takes me home.  It is,” Nora pointed to the clock behind the bar, “forty days now.  If we hit the road in the morning and she doesn’t screw around, I should be there by dawn on day plus one.”

Pan shrugged, a very Parisian gesture, “If you chose to trust the untrustworthy then perhaps you deserve your fate. Nevertheless, my master has sent you a gift.  A ‘snack’ for the road it you will.”

She placed a basket, the basket, on the bar. Something made a squish, squish, settle noise inside.  “What is that?  Is it horrible?  Because supernatural creatures eat the darndest things.”

“Let’s call it Huí jiā miàntiáo, going home noodle. It is a meal that will last whoever eats it as long as it takes to get home.”

Nora opened the basket, and inside there was what appeared to be one giant noodle, wound like a skein of yarn, dripping a rather sinister smelling sauce, “Is that? What is that?”

“Jīyóu.”

Nora inhaled, “It smells like motor oil and garlic.”

Pan smiled enigmatically, finished her cocktail, and gave Nora a slight, very slight, bow. “Good luck in your homecoming, Madame Walsh.”

 

A few hours later Nora practically carried the legless B.Y. out to Truck. The poor creature’s headlights barely lit at the sight of them, B.Y. having forgotten to bring it either any of the sausage they had earlier, or any gas.  Nora patted it consolingly on the driver side mirror, “Sorry, nice Truck, I’ll get you something in the morning before we go.  You like Chinese food?”

Its engine rev’d in encouragement.

The cold brought B.Y. around enough for her to get up the ladder on her own, and she threw herself into a wing-backed chair, putting up her feet for Nora to tug her boots off. “So, tomorrow, I can drive.  I figure we can get me to Chicago in a day?”

“Sure, you drive, girl. But to Novosibirsk first.  I need to check on House.  See how the little cottages are coming along.  Then home for you.”

Nora started to say something, but a long, old-lady snore stopped her.

Right.

She looked at the basket of noodles.

She looked at the hatch.

 

“Open up, sweet Truck, I have a snack for you,” Nora crooned to the mixer, hoping that she was getting this right.

Truck opened its hood just a bit, Nora pulled out the unwieldy and greasy ball of noodle, and carefully placed the dangling end of it in the opening, and then turned and tossed the great ball of food into the darkness in the west, thinking as hard and completely as she could of home.

It flew and flew, out of sight, unspooling and turning in the darkness until finally, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, it was pulled taught.

Truck vibrated, its engine starting, practically starting itself in its desire to suck down the rest of its treat. Nora raced back to the cab, pulling herself in and gunning the engine and taking off into the night, following the longest noodle in the world that would hopefully get her home.

 

Somewhere near Hutar in Mongolia Nora jerked awake, realizing that Truck was driving herself, quite well in fact, and that by the noises coming from behind he

Baba Yaga had woken up herself and was starting to realize they were on the road.

Crap.

“Well, in for a penny. Let’s hope this works.”  Nora said, grabbing the lever that was supposed to start the mixer turning and pulling it to the highest setting.

With a confused “gurp” noise the mixer slowly began to turn, not interrupting their forward momentum, all the while steadily picking up speed.

Even over the sound of the open road beneath their tires, and the groaning spin of the mixer, Nora learned several more choice Russian curses from B.Y.

 

The evening of what would be Nora’s next to last day travelling with Baba Yaga, Loki sat in his family’s Midgardian hunting lodge watching his brother dress a brace of hares to spit and cook in the fireplace, idly rereading one of Cul’s grimoires. The God of Fear had an execrable hand, but his spells were all diamonds of the first water.

“So tomorrow you return to the City of Wind to be reunited with Mistress Nora. Do not worry, brother, I will catch that last troll alone.”

“Windy City. And, no, I think I will stay here a while longer.”  Loki closed the book, shaking his head, “If Nora does not wish to remember me then I cannot, no I refuse to force her to do so.  Nor can I bear the thought of being close to her without being truly close.  I had thought for a while that I might simply live as Magnus.  Woo her as Magnus.  Be a mortal man and win her.  Marry her.  I could make her fall in love with him so easily.  I know her so well, and she finds him attractive-“

“You.”

“What?”

“You’re Magnus, thus it is you that Mistress Nora is drawn to, brother.”

“I, well- anyway I considered it. It is a terrible temptation to think of having a full life with her, but I will not.  Nora deserves a life that is better than another of my lies.  So, perhaps it is best if I – If I return home.”

Thor dropped the rabbits into the fire, which flared and flashed and smelled of delicious charring, “Brother! No!  If you return to Asgard it is to the Isle of Silence, not the dungeons.  I would not see you in such a place.  You are not the … creature you were.  You have changed, or perhaps not so much changed as you have simply found another face, one that suits you better than the villain’s mask you have embraced these last years.”

Loki’s eyes became just the slightest bit damp, “Perhaps, but I think that my treatment of my Nora says that this new face is not that of a hero, either.”

Thor stood, clasping Loki’s shoulder, “There are no heroes brother, only heroic acts. And you always scorned them as ridiculous.  You have not changed that much.”

At that moment of brotherly affection three things happened. A cloud of black smoke billowed from the fireplace as the rabbits fully ignited.  Loki wondered when his brother had become thoughtful.  And there was a loud pounding on the door, of someone striking the wood with the side of their fist.

The Odinssons frowned and whipped their heads to face the door, Mjolnir flying to Thor’s hand and Loki’s dagger materializing in his. Silently they stalked to the door, Thor taking a place to the side, hammer raised, Loki whipping it open, dagger clenched at his side.

Nora practically fell in the door, just catching herself on the frame. She blew hair out of her eyes.  ”Thank god!  I haven’t pee’d since China and I was thinking if there wasn’t anyone home I was going burst.” 

Stepping around the utterly immobile Loki she patted Thor on the arm, “Hi, big man! You look good.  Earth agrees with you. Um, something is burning?”  Thor ‘eep’d’ and rushed to the fire to deal with the ruined dinner.

Nora kind of vibrated in place, “C’mon, Loki, where is the bathroom? I’m dying.”

Wordlessly, he pointed.

She had said his name. In her voice his name was like the dawn, full of light.

“Thanks, um, I like the hair,” she said shyly, softly tugging one of his braids.

He made a very undignified sound and did not care.

As she rushed to the facilities, Nora called over her shoulder, “Could you let Baba Yaga out of the mixer? She might throw up on you, so be careful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is really a Red Lion Pub in Lincoln Park. The owners name is Colin. He is utterly amazing, and so is his place. You should go there if you can. There is also really a Red Lion Pub in Harbin, apparently they have a great cover band from the Philippines that plays there, or so I have heard.


	17. You and I Have Unfinished Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora and Loki eat some sandwiches

“That was cool, right?” Nora said, to herself, sitting on the toilet.   After having a nearly reality altering pee, since she really hadn’t gone close to twenty hours not knowing how to stop Truck once she started eating.  “I seemed cool.”  

Of course then she caught a look at herself in the hallway mirror and nearly wept.  She couldn’t have looked less cool or desirable if that had been her sole intention in this life. Her hair was not just dirty but so filthy it was sticking up the side she had been sleeping against, held in place by its own ick.  There was dried tea stains on the old lady cardigan she wore over one of B.Y.s endless series of housecoats, and she wore Keds over white socks.

She was especially jarring in the context of the elegantly carved and joined teakwood that surrounded her.

And then there was that wild look in her eyes, because her mind was still racing.  

There had been the panic when Truck had stopped, jarring her again from sleep, not in front of her house, or the 999, or even in Cook County as far as she could tell, but rather in front of a sprawling chalet cum hunter’s wet dream in the tundra.  Carefully Nora had lowered herself out of the cab, not wanting to jar her aching back or bladder, and thought, “Ok, I just faced down a dragon, I have been travelling and trading sass with the Wicked Witch of Kiev, and my ex-boyfriend is the God of Fuckery, so even if this place is full of meth’d up, rape crazy bikers, I am still going to ask to use the bathroom.”

That said, Nora was pretty much wishing for those bikers when the aforementioned God of Fuckery answered the door, holding a big knife, l ooking like Sin and Debauchery had decided to have a baby that ended up being too much for them to handle.   From his blacker than black hair, partially braided away from his face, which for the first time that Nora had ever seen was lightly stubbled, causing the green of his eyes to nearly glow in contrast.  He had cocked his head at her, an inscrutable, arrogant gesture, so he looked down that perfect nose at her. 

He even smirked.  And she couldn’t decide if that made her want to punch his beautiful face off of his skull, or just lick him somewhere.  She knew which one she should want to do, thinking of that last time they had been together.  The cruel things he had said, the even crueler thing he had done, making it clear he never wished to see her again.  But what she wanted to do?  That she couldn’t say.

Plus, she had a horrible headache, since the thing Nora had been beating her brain against since seeing him on the Red Delicious Cam had all flooded back.  She had sort of started remembering him then, and recalled most of the rest of him some time before Shanghai, but now she remembered everything and it was a bit overwhelming.

Considering how many things were going on in her head, Nora was pretty proud of how she had handled it.  Although Loki still clearly hated her so much he wouldn’t even speak to her, just making a dismissive noise even when she dared to tug on one of those handsome braids.

Oh, and Thor was there.

 

Loki was dazed.  Mindlessly he went to the mixer, stopped it from turning, and then climbed to the back and let out a very green and irritable Baba Yaga, who did not throw up but did give him an earful in several dead languages and dialects.  

Just before they reached the door of the lodge, he managed to ask, “When did you free her?  And how did she even know where I was?”

B.Y. waved a hand, belched, and looked more herself.  “I didn’t release her from anything.  Little thief got herself loose.  She must have really wanted to remember you, baby god.  Why?  I have no idea.  And she didn’t know where your pretty face was.  Xunsu must have given her some kind of homing spell, brought her right here.  Stupid girl doesn’t know what’s good for her.”

“Does anyone?”

“No.”

Just then, Nora stepped out, her ridiculous costume and lovely everything else framed by the door, crossing her arms, “Go ahead.”  He could smell her body, she needed to bathe, but he wanted to rub his himself against her, scent marking himself with her.

Loki started to say something, anything, then realized that she was speaking to Baba Yaga, who hustled up to her, waving a finger as boney as a cleaned drumstick in her face, “You are a thief, and a deceiver, and a subverter of heavy machinery.  And that business with the mixer?”  She threw her hands into the air, “I am so proud of you, little thief!  You should really come to Russia with me.  I can steal some magic from someone for you.  Make you into a nice little witch.”

Nora considered it for a moment.  Loki’s heart plummeted through the crust of the earth.  Then she shook her head, “Nope.  I would but I just can’t stand any more snow.”

“Fair enough.  But if you change your mind…forget it, one time offer.  By the way, baby god, where are we?”  The hag asked, slyly, making Loki’s hackles rise.

“Norway, near the thin place.”

“Ah, so little thief, “ Baba Yaga smiled unpleasantly, “you know we passed back over the date line, yes?  It’s still yesterday, and you still owe me a day.  I will collect later.”  Nora refused to respond, giving a very French little shrug that she had clearly learned somewhere recently, “and you owe me 17243.13 rubles.”

Nora leaned over and kissed the witch’s haggard cheek, and then looked Loki in the eye, “Pay her, I’m freezing out here,” before turning back into the lodge without a look back.

Loki went so hard so fast he nearly tipped over.

Baba Yaga laughed herself into tears.

 

Thor was still trying to put out what appeared to be a rabbit based fire when Nora sat down next to him, enjoying the heat enough to ignore the smell.  “Mistress Nora, you look….well, soiled, but well.  Clearly journeying agrees with you.”

“Hmmm… apart from my back killing me, and being disgusting, I feel pretty good.  I slept, I kept food down, I saw Hank Williams, and met a dragon.  I have had much worse trips.  New York was pretty bad.”

He finally gave up dealing with the flames in a reasonable way and just grabbed the burning bunnies and hustled them into the kitchen, excusing himself.  “I will make sandwiches. Do you care for ham, Mistress Nora?”  

“Whatever is fine, thank you.”

“Ham it shall be.”

Nora watched the flames that remained for a few moments.  It made her remember the first time she had slept in Loki’s bedchamber, long before they had become lovers.  She had been exhausted, and laying on those pillows before the fire had been the best sleep she had had in two years, since New York.  Now just the sound of flames made her drowsy.

“Perhaps you would like to bathe before eating.”  Of course the first thing he could actually bring himself to say to her was a comment on her hygiene, Nora thought, giving a quiet little sigh.  And, of course the sound his voice was a velvet rasp over her nerve endings.  

“Right.  I am pretty gross.  Sorry about that, I know how sensitive you are,” she stood up, refusing to look at him, afraid to give him any ammunition to use against her from what he would surely see in her eyes.

“I merely thought you would be more comfortable, if you prefer to stay as you are –“ he had that casual, I-was-just-being-reasonable-how-horrible-of-me tone she hated, so instead of avoiding him she stood close enough for her stink to wrinkle his aristocratic nose.

Could he be any more indifferent?  It made her miss his hating her a little.

“Where’s the tub?”  He gestured gracefully to a door that could be seen upstairs.  She left him standing there.

Nora had herself angry enough to be stupid, so she managed to get to the luxuriously appointed bathing room, complete with a massive sunken marble tub, and every other amenity that she had never seen before, fill the massive sunken marble tub, strip off and climb into the steaming water filling the massive sunken marble tub and sigh with pleasure before recalling that she didn’t have any other clothes here.

“Oh, Jesus!” she yelled, and then just started soaping herself.   Whatever.  The Asgardian sized towels were probably large enough for her to make herself a very modest toga.

The soap smelled of juniper and stone and salt.  Loki’s natural smell in a solid form.  She snorted, he would be vain enough to create his own scent.  God she missed everything about him.

 

Loki pressed a hand against the door to the bathing chamber, holding a stack of clothing for Nora to choose from.  He considered his options.  He could simply walk in, deposit the items in the room and leave, hoping against hope that the steam he could see billowing under the door would be enough to hide her from him.  He could give a brisk knock and call out that he was placing some things for her outside the door and walk swiftly away.

He had created several pairs of pants and few skirts, a number of sweaters, a great many blouses, and as plain and modest of undergarments as he could imagine.  

Nora had spoken to Thor before speaking to him.  She had assumed his overtures of kindness were an insult.  She was clearly raw and hurting, but only where regarded him.  Other than her strange attire she looked well.  More than well, the eternal circles under her lovely, now cold, eyes were faded if not gone, she was slender rather than thin, the fears that would wear on her and trouble her health had been allayed.

As had her love for him.

He chose his second option, “Nora?”

“What?” her voice was harsh.

“I am leaving some garments for you near the door.”

“Fine.  Thank you.”

While Loki had been creating clothing for Nora, it appeared that Thor, coward that he was, had swiftly made an enormous number of sandwiches and then taken Mjolnir and escaped into the night, leaving a note saying that he was “On the trail of the final troll.”

Ha!  Thor was probably, wisely, making his way to one of the resorts on the island to drink safely away from them.

Loki carried the sandwiches and a pitcher of dark beer to the fire, trying to keep his hands busy until Nora joined him.  He turned when he heard her on the stair.  She had chosen the plainest of the skirts and sweaters, and was clearly wearing two pairs of socks.  

“Would you rather something hot to drink?”  Loki asked, “I thought you might wish this ale.  It is made locally-“

“Doesn’t matter.”  She took a sandwich and sat close to the fire again, warming her toes.  He sat on the large chair nearest to the fire, sipping ale, watching her not look at him.  Drinking in the pleasure of seeing her sweet mouth, her lovely skin, and the pain of seeing her eyes without brightness.  She finished one sandwich and then another.

Had either of them ever been silent for so long?

Then Nora said the most astounding thing he could imagine.

“So, you’re completely over me me, huh?”

Loki leaned forward, frowning, his head jutted forward at an odd angle, trying to figure out what Nora was.  “Over you?” his voice was gravely and incredulous.

“I mean, I thought probably still be mad.  And you were probably pissed as hell when I didn’t recognize you when you were being Magnus – I know you hate that.  But you seem to be – you clearly – it’s cool, I get it, out of sight, out of mind, fine.  These sandwiches are good.”  She turned back to the fire, and he caught a glimmer near her eye.  A shimmer of damp.

There was quiet again, and Loki waited for the rage to engulf him, for his indignation at Nora’s thinking for a second that he was indifferent, that his love for her was something as quickly forgotten as a spring flirtation, that there was a moment of the last weeks that not had been howlingly empty for him without her.  But the rage did not come, and in its place was a wave of sorrow that even now he had managed to hurt her yet again, without any intent.

He slid from the chair onto his knees, “Nora.”  He wanted to say so much, and for once his silver tongue lay like lead in his mouth.

“Do you want one of-“

“I want to beg your forgiveness, but I fear that you will give it to me, because your heart is vast enough to do so, and I do not deserve it.  I want to take you into my arms, just to hold you against my heart, but I fear that you will shrink from my touch like that of a viper, because of the monstrousness of the last time I held you.  I want you to look at me with that look, that brightness that has been your gift to me, but I fear that will never be again, because you no longer love me.”

“Oh,” she turned to face him, and to his surprise touched his face, cupping his cheek, “I didn’t even know you could grow a beard.  Your skin is always so perfectly smooth.”

He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes.

“I don’t know that I can forgive you for what you said, for what you did.  But I let you do so many things, knowing that you were lying to me, manipulating me, and I let it happen because there was always a part of me that felt I didn’t really deserve you-“ she put her hand over his mouth to stop the outraged interruption that longed to boil from his lips, “I felt I really didn’t deserve you.  You are a god, Loki.  No matter what you did, you are this amazing, powerful magical thing, the most beautiful man I have ever seen, and I’m just this.  So I ignored things, or let them go.  Because even if I didn’t know it I think I’ve been waiting for you to change your mind.”

Nora’s hand fell from his mouth to her lap.  “If you want to, I would like you to kiss me, please. But I might need to tell you to stop, because I might be afraid once you start.”

 

Time stopped.  For an endlessly stretching moment Loki didn’t move, and Nora thought, “Ok, that’s that.”

Then he leaned towards her, his eyes softly lidded and looking at hers, and he touched his lips to hers gently, with the pressure of leaf wafting from a tree and landing on the water.  It didn’t frighten her.

“May I put my arm around you?”  He whispered.

Nora nodded, not sure she could speak.

He sat and wrapped her close to him, but lightly, so lightly, as if he was afraid of harming her.  Normally his hand would have been against her skin, possessive and warm, but now it was decorously outside her sweater.  She wished he would touch her but was glad he didn’t.

“May I kiss you again?”  

“Yes.”  

This kiss was longer, fuller, his lips lushly caressing hers, the very tip of his tongue teasing the delicate skin inside of her mouth, and when he stopped she was panting slightly, feeling like a girl making out for the first time.  “May I kiss your neck?”

“Oh, god, please.”  His mouth ghosted over her jaw, under her chin and to her neck, running along it in a soft, damp wave, the heat from his breath on her wet skin making her shake.

He pulled away quickly, putting space between them, his eyes wild with dread, “Are you- did I frighten you?  Is it too much?  I should go.”  Loki made to rise.

Nora knocked him over. 

“Nora-“  he started to speak, trying to rise up on his elbows, but she put a hand on his chest which heaved under her touch, pushing him back to the floor.

“Shhhh….” She straddle his thighs and ran the flats of her palms up them to his hips, skirting either side of the placket of his trousers where his cock strained the fabric.  She made quick work of thed buttons and zipper, his length springing free but she didn’t touch it, running her hands under his tunic.  But she could feel the heat coming from it, practically purple with need where it stood along the flat on his stomach from between his legs to over his navel.

Nora hid a gulp.  She had maybe not quite yet remembered how big he was.

She inched up, pushing his tunic so she could see how splendid he was, from the beautifully defined belt of Adonis, to the flat ridges of his stomach, the firmness of his chest.  Nora toyed with his nipples, making him moan.  She heard a loud ripping noise and saw that his fisting hands had torn into the enormous rag rug that covered the floor in his efforts to keep from touching her.

Rather than show mercy, Nora did something she had wanted to do since the very first time she had seen him, standing like an idol over the people in Stuttgart.   Quickly she shed her sweater and the very virginal bra that Loki had given her and lay along his body, her cheek on his chest, and she just let herself rub against him life a cat in heat, growling and moaning at how good he felt, how right.

His cock jumped so hard he bruised her abdomen, and his body arched so far she was able to wrap her arms around him, holding on tight as she bit his neck, while rubbing her soaked panties on him.

There were noises coming from Loki that made it abundantly clear that he was far from human, and there was a deep screeching scrape as his fingers gouged deeply into the wooden floor.

“May I fuck you?”  She asked.

For a moment it was clear that Loki had forgotten English, because he answered her in Asgardian.  His jaw was locked so tight and tense it looked like agony.  She brushed a very, very gentle kiss there, all the while grinding on him, close to coming herself.

“Was that a yes, my handsome prince?”  She crooned against his skin.

“Yes….” He hissed out, his eyes promising a day of reckoning, but also begging her for something more than mere satisfaction.

Quivering and throbbing, her thighs soaked with sweat, Nora found that what had been her deliberate hip rolls had grown wildly erratic.  She reached between them, brushing his cock as she shimmied out of her also virginal and dripping panties.  That little brush caused Loki to cry out, and she had to tug him upwards so she could lower herself onto him.

It hurt, just a little, that size that she was no longer used to.  Pain at having him to obliterate the pain of wanting him.  When Nora could take a breath she stared at Loki’s face, not moving.

Finally she began to move, very slightly, taking him deeper and deeper, past the point she felt he should have fit, rubbing her clit against his pubic hair, “I love you, Loki.  I will love you every day for the rest of my life,” her voice came in pants but her words were clear, “and if there is anything after that I will love you then, too.  But,” and now she leaned forward, her face inches from him, her hips moving faster as she fought to not come yet, “just because I am yours, you don’t own me,” her motions became rough and hard and Loki keened with pleasure, “you don’t lock me up.  You don’t commit goddamned crimes.  And you don’t use sex magic on me,” she locked eyes with him, smiling like a fox, “until I tell you that I want it.”

The last word took him over the edge, and he dragged her with him, finally snapping and grabbing her waist and pulling her so now her back arched and his cock rubbed at her g-spot while a finger vibrated against her clit sending her into orgasm after orgasm, screaming when he released, the force of it cracking windows and causing a freak snow-storm that buried the island in seven feet of ice.


	18. All I Wanted Her to Do Was Trust Me.  And She Did.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no snacking in this chapter.

Nora collapsed atop Loki’s heaving chest, her boneless weight melting onto him.  Slowly he unclenched his fingers from where they had dug into the ancient floor boards, every muscle and sinew soft with release and relief.  With the most hesitant of movements, giving her every chance to shy away from his embrace, he wrapped his arms about her.

Rather than eschew his touch or show the slightest quiver of disgust Nora nestled closer, her nose nuzzling into his neck, her melodious sigh of gratification brushing his skin.

Loki longed to speak, to answer her demands for her autonomy and dignity with all of the affirmation he possessed.  To allay her fears that he would continue to run roughly over her all in the name of love.  To tell her that he had resolved to himself during their time apart to honor her wisdom and independence as much as he had heretofore honored her body and his own fears.

Instead, he found himself saying, “So you are implying that at some time in the future you would be prepared to allow me to bewitch you for pleasure?”

‘Ah, good to know that I am just as much of an ass as my treasure has always claimed me to be,’ he thought, waiting for his due castigation and rejection.

Instead of pulling herself from his arms, Nora began to tremble with mirth, “Glad that you had the important take-away from all that, big man,” her laugh starting as a small giggle and then finally turning into the helpless, snorting hilarity that unfettered him.  He found himself laughing as well until he was gasping for air.

“I missed you, my sweetest one.  I have been so lonely.”

Nora finished a snort, and then propped herself up to look down at him, “You don’t seem lonely.  You and your big brother hanging out in Norway and eatint rabbits and sandwiches.  And drinking, and – why are you here, actually?  Where is Django?”  Now frowning, Nora clambered off of him, roughly pulling her sweater back on, misbuttoning it in her haste for cover.

Loki righted his own clothing, feeling cold without Nora upon him.  He looked at where she sat on the floor against the sofa and settled himself beside her, leaving less than the width of one of her delicate hands between them.  

“As requested, Mrs. Beekman is caring for your small … quadruped … I find that she actually seems to enjoy it.  And as for being here I rather misbehaved myself after your departure,” he said to the fire.

From the corner of his eye he could see Nora turn to face him, “ _After_ I left you misbehaved?  AFTER?”

“After your wise and richly deserved abandonment of me I _continued_ to misbehave myself, spreading joy to all who dared to be within my presence.   After a few days Charles may have decided to try and reason with me, as if I were capable of such a thing, and I may have destroyed most of my home trying to kill him-“

Nora stood up, staring down at him in horror, “You were trying to kill poor Charles?”

“Trying, and nearly failing, and not truly wishing it,” Loki wrapped a hand around Nora’s knee, his thumb circling the tightness he found there, “I offer no excuses for myself.  I simply indulged myself in all of the more base and wild parts of my personality and blamed you for it.  Charles, I will add, is more than adequate to the task of defending himself, but he should not have to.  I was raised to not abuse or debase the servants.”

“Oh, I’m glad that covered that but skipped world conquering,” Nora said irritably.

“That was covered as well.  The attitude towards it was more mutable,” Loki responded and then pressed with his thumb at a particular cluster of nerves, while reaching for her hand, so Nora just fell into his lap.

“Wha-“

He pressed her close, his mouth near her temple, “I will try, Nora.  I will try every moment of every day.  But I have been who I have been for an eon.  I have been… hurting,” he swallowed, closing his eyes and forcing himself to continue.  Forcing himself to try, “I have been hurting in many ways for much of that time.  Some hurts were done to me, and many I inflicted upon myself to prove myself unlovable.  Some were done by-“

Loki stopped, feeling an anxious nausea climbing in his chest.  He was not prepared to speak Thanos name.  Not to have it poison the air. And for a superstitious and primitive fear that it was a name that would conjure demons that could not be laid to rest.

Soon.  He would find a way and he would tell her soon.  Nora deserved his best attempt at honesty.

“They were done, and I have indulged myself in my suffering and misery and have made every effort to share that indulgence with others, as if handing out poisoned candy to children.” 

She pulled away a touch but stayed in his lap, looking at his face for a long time. Loki felt as if he could not breath. Finally she frowned a bit, and then smiled, a small even shy grin that reached and brightened her eyes, “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.  You’ll try.  I believe you.  You _will_ try.  And sometimes you’ll fail, but mostly I think you'll try,” she kissed him softly, “and try,” and kissed him again, “and try.  Because I believe you want to do it for me.  I wish you would want it for you, but even if you are my personal god I don’t expect miracles.  Except in bed.”

Then she kissed him again, her hands bracketing his jaws so her fingers fanned lightly on his skin.  Her hot mouth warmed him through, her tongue wildly tangling with his while she pressed herself breathless against his chest.  

Loki pulled away and bit her chin, her jaw, the hollow place of her throat, leaving marks that he would soothe later.

“Hold me tight, Nora,” he rasped, coiling one arm about her shoulders and wrapping his fingers around her elegant throat, feeling her warmth and the wild pulse of her life, kissing the laugh from her mouth as he teleported them to his bed.

A ‘whumph’ of air rushed around them, and Nora bolted upright, her knees digging into the mattress and her thighs tightening around him, “What hap-!” She looked wildly around his rooms, “are we back in Chicago?  No, no tub, what?”  She looked wildly around.

“Shhh, shhh,” Loki murmured, stroking his hand along her neck, “no, I simply modeled my bedchamber there on this one.  I feel I improved upon some of it, though this bed is from Asgard and cannot be bettered.”

Nora lowered her chin and bit the webbing between his thumb and fingers, and then licked where she had bitten.  Loki slid his other hand beneath her tattered skirt and swatted her luscious ass firmly, and then rubbed over the spot.

She bit him harder, around a filthy smile.  “When did you start teleporting?  And why do we drive anywhere?”

“Alas, teleportation is rather beyond me in this Realm, the spell is only on this building and mile around.  Something Cul ensorcelled the ground with.  Odin claimed it was to allow for a rapid escape, should the mortals sense something amiss with the lodge.  I rather more believe it was for when they were too drunk to find their beds with their feet.”

“Cul?” Nora asked, rolling off of him to his sorrow.  

“Cul Borson, Odin’s baby brother.  The God of Fear.  We have never been acquainted, as he has been condemned to the Isle of Silence since before my birth.  He has escaped from time to time, which gives me hope should I ever find myself there.”

Nora lay herself against him again, her arm across his stomach and a thigh draped over his hip.  He buried his face in her hair.  

It occurred to him that he was snuggling.  It was not what he had had in mind when he had brought them to his bed, but he found himself reluctant to stop.

“Why do you people need a God of Fear?  And, wait a minute, what was he condemned for?”  

“Treason, attempting to usurp the throne, attempted regicide.  The usual things.  And yes, the similarities are not lost on me.  You cannot possibly imagine how often I was compared to him as I grew.  ‘Oh, Loki, your uncle was also a master of the dark arts, how cute.’  Or ‘Oh Loki, Cul used to give Odin that same look of contempt that you are giving Thor.  So adorable.’ And ‘Oh, Loki, your uncle could not compare to you as a lover.  Take me again.’”

“You slept with one of your uncle’s-“

“More than one.  He had exquisite taste.  I was always an eager pupil for a wise teacher and his mistresses were very, very knowledgeable.”

“Remind me to thank the space cougars for your education, if I ever get to Asgard.”

Loki could no more imagine Nora on Asgard than he could imagine himself wearing pleated front khakis.  

“Nora?”

“Yes?”  She sounded sleepy, but Loki, prepared to concede to whatever she needed from him for the rest of their lives, was feeling rather ruthless.

“Lay on your back and close your eyes.”

Downstairs Nora had shown him something about ‘want’, now it was time for him to give her a lesson in ‘need.’

 

For a half a second Nora considered not doing it.

But only for half a second.

As she settled herself comfortably against the hill of wonderful pillows, softly letting her eyes close, she muttered, “Please should be the magic word at this time.”

“Please,” he hushed against Nora's hands as he lifted each to his mouth, kissing the backs and then palms, and then he kissed the buttons of her sweater open, pushing it free from her shoulders, then from under her, and she could hear the heavy cotton strike the floor.

For a few moments Nora simply felt Loki straddling her, weight on his own heels, and heard their breathing mingle and twine in the air.  His hands were close to her, but not touching. Something about it was maddening, and she realized that she was restlessly fidgeting beneath him.

She waiting for that knowing, smirking laugh of his that she got any time she was too aroused and he wanted to play with her.

It didn’t come.

Instead she heard his voice waft down onto her skin as he whispered her name.

Long hands cupped and stroked her breasts for an endless time, alternating hard pinches to her nipples with refined circles of the areola with just the barest touch of a fingertip. She tried not to pant.  She failed.

Loki worked himself farther back, his hand trailing, his fingers deftly working the muscles on her sides and even finding a few on her abdomen (that Nora would have bet money didn’t exist) to loosen and relieve, while making her cunt clench and long for the same loving treatment.

He slid his fingers to her skirt slowly, slowly sliding it down her legs and then away.  He then removed the two heavy pairs of socks and for a moment she felt a chill, then his graceful hands began to caress her feet, rubbing a thumb on her insole, drawing a moan out of her, and then he drew her toes into his mouth, sucking with a kind of specific dedication that most men couldn’t even manage when playing with her breasts.

Then just as slowly the other foot. 

He nibbled and laved her ankle bones and Achilles tendon, releasing a tightness she hadn’t knowing had been in her legs for weeks, and making her want to beg him to move faster and higher.  Loki’s long fingers worked along her calves, to the back her knees, stroking and kneading, feathering over her knees.  She could feel his eyes on her face, watching her lips part and her breathing become deeper.  

“Ple-“ before she could finish what she was saying both of his hands were under her ass and his nails were lightly scratching down the hypersensitive skin on the backs of her thighs.  

Nora writhed, feeling herself go from wet to dripping, her eyes wanted to flutter open, “Keep your eyes closed, treasure.”  Loki’s voice was very soft and matter of fact, as if he were unaffected.

Which Nora knew meant he was dying to be in her.  

“We were apart while you were away longer than we were together prior to that,” that reasonable tone that mean he was going to be very unreasonable with her now.  His hands moved to the tops of her thighs, rubbing and soothing, at once making her more aroused and languid, “I would lay in our bed, before I destroyed it-“

“What?”

“Shhh,” one of his fingers pressed against her slit as if it was her mouth, and she forgot what she was going to say, “I would lay in our bed, and then in this one, every single night and think of all of the things I would do to you, if you were with me.  Of how many times I would make you peak and scream.  

“And I kept track.”

Now she was afraid.

Nora shot up, eyes open.  He gave her a vulpine smile, eyes hooded and a little mad.

You know, the good kind.

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head.

“Oh, yes….” He hissed, placing a palm flat between her breasts and using it to kindly help her ease back onto the bed.

“You know I’m frailer than an Asgardian woman.  Or a-“ his hands spread her legs wider and wider, bending her knees so she lay open like book that he was determined to not merely read, but to memorize, to be able to from quote without a thought.

“I promise to never break you, treasure.  But maybe to challenge you a bit.  I have never known any being more up for a good challenge than you.”  He said, as she felt him settling his shoulders between her thighs.

“I’ve been considering changing my personal policy in that regard so mayb- Oh, holy mother of God!” she screamed as there was no more teasing or playing or edging or any of the usual Loki niceties.  It was just his lips and teeth taking her clit and sucking and biting an orgasm from her so abruptly and sharply she was not sure for a moment if it could be real.

Only that she wanted more.

She felt him smirk against her cunt, “That is one, treasure.  You may count with me.  If you like.”

At some point, around the ten count and the light of dawn, Nora passed out, her lovely, sweet form drenched in both of their sweat and her pleasured tears.  The bed was flooded in the scent and flood of her completion, and Loki sighed in satisfaction, resting his cheek upon her belly, lightly kissing her there

When she looked not to wake quickly, Loki stood, gathering her body in his arms and carrying her to the bath, placing her on his lap and cleaning her as tenderly as he could.

“Why am I in water?” she muttered against him.   “It stings, by the way.”

“Apologies, my princess.  But I thought you would sleep better clean.”  

“Ok.”  Nora lay her head back on his shoulder, fading, and then frowned, “don’t call me princess, weirdo.”

“Of course.  Not until we are married.  Treasure.”


	19. Give Me All Your Money, Baby.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karma, Baba Yaga, and Nora all get one last jab in at Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The braids are for Caffiend. If you are not reading her stories (especially My Lovely Doll - http://archiveofourown.org/works/9535484/chapters/21561410 and This is SO Not Going to Happen - http://archiveofourown.org/works/8575273/chapters/19660963 both of which just got updated), you are making a bad life choice.

Nora woke up.  She had no idea where she was.  

The room was dark, but there was just enough light coming from the small blaze in the fireplace to show it was a huge  space with a few pieces of large furniture.  The bed she was in was so comfortable only massive, heart-palpitating, panic attack she was having kept her from just laying back down to sleep.

Which became worse when she noticed she was naked.  And if not exactly sore, then her whole body felt very tender.  Especially-

“Ohnoohno” she said softly, over and over, searching around the room for any kind of light.  She was terrified, and at the same time registered that she felt fine.  More than fine, wonderful.  Way better than she could remember feeling in years.  Happy, under the fear.  So she also assumed she had to have been drugged.

That part was o.k.

Not finding any sort of lamp or wall switch she pulled open the curtains and was nearly blinded by bright sunlight bouncing off of a lot of snow.  And mountains.  And nothing else as far as she could see.

“Oh fuck,” she choked out.  “Ok, ok, ok… “ 

Now that she could see around the room it was astonishingly lavish, and she was relieved to see a tall pile of women’s clothing sitting on one of the chairs near the door.  Not her clothes, since they were way too nice for anything she had ever owned, but she put them on any way.

They fit.  As did the hiking boots that sat neatly next to the door.

“What is –“ Nora slumped against the door and took slow, deep breaths trying to calm herself down.  In addition to no lights there was no phone, either.  At least that made a sort of sense.  

There was, however, a spear over the fireplace.  It seemed longer than it should.  Then Nora wondered why she thought she was a good judge of something like that.  It was also very heavy.

Creeping out of the room Nora found that she was in some kind of rustic palace.  “Ok, I have been abducted by Santa…  Who clearly spends most of his free time killing his reindeer?  The fuck?”  A marvelous staircase that would have given Fibonnaci a boner led down to a massive hall that was only missing Robin Hood with an elk over his shoulders to be complete.

Still no phone.  

Nora could faintly hear someone doing something in a room off of that space.  There was a clatter of something metal and what sounded like it had to profanity in a language she didn’t know.  

Now her palpitations were each have a mini-convulsion.   

She hefted the spear a bit, realized that anything she was considering at the moment was bone-deep dumb and headed instead for what she assumed had to be the front door.  She could feel the cold seeping around it.  There were a few… cloaks?  Yes, cloaks, hanging next to it.

“I’ve been abducted by stupidly wealthy LARPers….” There was one utterly resplendent coat, green velvet with white fur on the collar in cuffs.  “Apologies, dead animal.”  It was hilariously too large for her.  

She was struggling to push the sleeves back far enough to open the door when a dark, amused voice from behind her said, “I can refit that for you, if you like.  Though I think you look adorable as it is.”

Nora spun around, the weight from the coat nearly pulling her over, attempting to brandish the spear, even if she wasn’t entirely sure how that was done.

Behind her was the tallest, handsomest, scariest looking man she had ever seen in her life.  He wore all black, and his even blacker hair was terrifically long and partially braided.  He leaned on the wall on one of his broad, perfect shoulders. 

And he was smiling at her.  Not laughing, or smirking, or leering, or any of the other expressions she might expect from her insane circumstances.  Just smiling.

Like seeing her was wonderful.  Like she was wonderful.

“What is all this?  Who are you?” She jabbed the spear at him.  

He stopped smiling and jerked himself off of the wall, “What do you mean?  Let me see your eyes.“ He started moving towards her, prowling towards her, like a wolf who had cornered a sheep.  When he reached out to grab the spear, she stabbed him.

Loki had quite forgotten how much something as simple as being stabbed by a spear could hurt.  Or maybe it was just worse because it was Nora that had done it.  Still, it was his own fault for assuming she would not do so.

Because of the surprise of it his blood was flowing both hot and red and cold and blue at the same time, leaving a tepid purple puddle that he ended up sitting in.  No doubt running a very fine pair of merino trousers.  “Would you grab me a piece of toweling, treasure?”  

Nora, however, had already grabbed one of Thor’s cloaks and knelt in front of him, pressing it to his side, “Oh Christ, I am so sorry, I… okay, I am not sure I’m sorry, since you kidnapped me, but damn… why does your blood look-.  Who are you and what did you do to me?”  

She sounded outraged and terrified.  

He grabbed her face with both hands and pulled her close so he could stare into her sweet eyes. The fear in them was enough to make him want to punch through a wall.  He set that aside and looked further within her.  Yes, some remnants of Baba Yaga’s spell were still dancing around in there, clouding her sight.  Nora tried to pull away, and when he would not let go she, clever girl, started punching him in his wound.  He let her get several blows in, more concerned about finding where the spell was hiding, using the concentration needed to ignore the astonishing amount of pain and blood.

There it was.  B.Y. had hidden it in Nora’s memories of her former lovers, knowing that it was a place that would especially exasperate him to have to wade through.

Here was a vision of Nora, young and wide-eyed, her blossoming breasts being fumbled at by a clumsy boy with grotesque hair and bad grooming.  There her clearly in college laying across a bed in a filthy dorm-room, experiencing oral pleasure (if it could be called such) for the first time at the inept mouth of red-headed miscreant who clearly couldn’t tell the difference between his teeth and his tongue.  Each lover more unworthy of his treasure than the last, the worst being her former fiancé, the vile Patrick.  

Watching Nora not just having relations with the creature, but falling in love with him, accepting his (paltry and gruesomely ugly) ring, and then having her heart broken by him was far more torturous than the jagged wound in his side.  

Finally, behind Nora’s memory of sobbing her heart out over that feculent pile of discharge, he found the spell, masquerading as a partially unraveled winter scarf.

“I am going to create a fox the size of a tyrannosaur and send it to eat that hag’s house…” Loki said, “I am sorry about this beloved, but there is no other way.”  At the same time he yanked the spell loose he kissed her, hard and invasive to stop her from screaming at the mental pain and to stop himself from passing out from blood loss.

When she pulled away this time the spell popped free and Loki balled it up and lobbed across the room into the fire.

Nora shook her head and then stared at him, “I am so sick of this shit.”

“Indeed.  Now can you help me over to that chest?  I think you may have done damage to one of my required internal organs and I should probably see to it before I swoon.”

“Oh, fucking jesus, here,” Nora put his hand in the place of her’s that pressed the cloak against his wound, and slung his other arm over her shoulder, “you are so heavy.”

“Yes, I am sorry being such a burden,” he gritted out, the jarring of the wound making him irritable.

“Right, sorry, I am so sorry I stabbed you.  I can’t believe I stabbed you.  I’ve never even punched anyone, and I… Oh god I punched you there too, didn’t I?”  She babbled at him as she helped him sit in a chair next to the eldritch chest.

“Quite,” Loki pushed the lid up with the last of his strength, “look within and when you see a small black box with silver hasps pull it out carefully.  And whatever you do, touch nothing else.  I mean that.”

Nora’s hands shook, but after a few moments she found what he needed.  

“Get me a scotch,” Loki requested, wanting her to be out of the room when he looked at the puncture, knowing it would be ugly, “from the bottle in my rooms, please.”

By the time Nora returned, still wearing his coat that trailed behind her, clutching a bottle of from a distillery that had closed nearly a century before, his blood still staining her hands, Loki had used the last of the δίκταμο that he had gathered on Vanaheim to heal the wound and had cleaned himself and replaced his clothing.  It was a good thing that he had hoarded the rare herb for so long, or he would have been forced to choose between returning to Asgard, and dying on the floor while hoping Thor would return soon to aid Nora.

Standing stiffly, Loki took the bottle from her, nodding his thanks and hobbled to one of the divans.  He pulled the cork with his teeth and took a deep draught.  

Nora stood staring at him, looking like she was about to weep.  “Sit, please,” he patted the seat beside him. 

She gingerly perched there, reeking of blood and remorse.

Loki picked up her hands and kissed the blood away with a breath of a simple spell, while she tried to yank them away, “Be calm, my treasure.”  He pulled her onto his lap as the last of the pain drifted from him, “I am so proud of you,” he nuzzled her hair.

“Proud?”

“You didn’t hesitate to strike.  And the blow was true.  If I were human I would be dead or near to it now.”

“Oh, god,” she muttered.  “I woke up and I didn’t know what was going on or where I was and I was naked and when I saw you I didn’t know who you were and I thought-“

“I can guess what your thoughts were.  I would have run myself through as well.  Because Baba Yaga did not actually disenchant you, and because technically this is the last day you were meant to be with her, the spell was still within your mind.  I have rid you of it.”

“I could have killed you.   What if you were wearing the torc?”

“It is in Chicago, so that is not-“

“You know what I mean.”  

“Then I would be dead and you would own several businesses, a multi-dwelling unit, any number of cars.  And Charles, of course.”

“What?!”  Nora tried to pull away, but he held her in place.  He had very nearly perished.  He deserved a cuddle.

“I made you my heir months ago.  After the assassination attempt in November.  The first one, I should say.  They endeavored to kill me for some time, which is one of the things I kept from you. And all they had to do was give you an enchanted blade and send you after my throat,” he smiled into her hair.

“Oh, no,” she tried to pull away again.

“I shall stop teasing, treasure.  Additionally, for solstice I gifted you with the controlling share of the consultancy.  I had planned on giving it you for your Valentine’s Day gift, but then we weren’t together.”

“I hate Valentine’s Day,” she hushed against him, starting to toy with his braids as she calmed down.  “So I’m crazy rich.”

“Oh, yes.”

“I don’t know that I want all of that.”

“It is rude to turn away from a gift.  And I need to know that, should anything happen to me, should anything take me from your side that you are cared for.  Safe.  As safe as I can make you.”  

For a few moments they sat there, entwined, listening to each other breathe.

Nora lifted one of the braids and kissed the end of it, which Loki could feel to his toes.  “I really want to climb on your back and play horsey with you, using these to make you giddy up.”

“I missed your playfulness.  But I can think of something better than that.”

Loki had them back in his bed, naked, before Nora could blink.  He then quickly propped her against the elaborate head-board and stood, prowling at the foot of the bed. “Do not fret, this is not for you,” he said before he started chanting softly.  

Nora watched, fascinated, as his braids grew longer and longer.  When they were the length he wanted one of Loki’s daggers appeared in his hand and he cut them off.  Before the sad noise she started to make had left her lips his hair grew back, falling around his shoulder, and down his back like spilled paint.  

Then he smiled, that scary, scary smile that meant she was in a lot of trouble.  He dropped the shorn braids on to the bed, and the slithered like snakes across the velvet and linen, winding up her body softer and smoother than silk ropes, the ends tickling and slightly rough.

When they reached her arms they pulled them back and over her head, the two of them twining and figure eight-ing, binding them together and affixing them to the headboard.

Nora felt herself mirroring that scary, scary smile.

Loki crawled up her body, following the course of his braids, until he rested on his heels between her open legs, and pulled her hips over his.  “Now, I believe we were up to ten, yes?”

“Yes,” her head fell back and her eyes closed as he fed himself into her at a glacial pace.  Then she thought of something, and lifted her head, meeting his eyes, “But horsey later?”

He threw his head back and laughed.  The low, ratcheting rumble of it trembled through Nora's body, making her come.


	20. You should be fucked, and often.  By someone who knows how.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion. Sammy and Comet are both on the menu.

“Oh, what are you doing?” Nora groaned.  “I really can’t come again.  My clit is numb.”

She was laying on her stomach in front of the fireplace, so undone and lax she couldn’t even lift her head to look over her shoulder at Loki, who had made his languid way down her body. And whatever he was doing now was –

“Ohhhhh…., “ She felt herself gush around the hand that was buried in her cunt, graceful fingers pressing and pushing against something achingly deep inside. And his mouth ….  She felt him leer and then lift his head.

“To answer your question, technically I am stimulating a spot just beyond your cervix while alternately massaging your musculus sphincter ani externus and musculus sphincter ani internus. With my mouth,” he answered in a pedantic, unemotional tone.

“You don’t have –,“ Nora had had a fairly adventurous sex life, once upon a time, but there were a few things that she had never asked for, or even knew she might want. 

“More honestly, I am tonguing your asshole and fingering you until you squirt all over me and come for a quarter of an hour. Or longer.  Shall I stop?”  His tongue swirled and Nora’s head dropped back onto her arms, her eyes fluttering closed.   How could she still feel so good, so aroused?  She should be half dead from exhaustion by now.

“No….” she tried very hard to keep the sob from her voice. She failed.

“You are not simply flushed. Why, treasure,” his voice became soft and fascinated, “you’re blushing.  I thought you could not.”  A firm palm pressed against the small of her back, pinning her in place, “How delightful,” he purred, and then bent his head back to his task.

Nora felt invaded, used, debauched, worshipped, and cherished. Needed, wanted, and essential.  And when she came and came, drenching both of them and making a sodden, crying mess of herself, she had never felt more beautiful.

As she drifted off, back on the bed, her head on Loki’s arm while he stroked her hair, she murmured, “You really take that ‘ruining me for other men’ thing seriously, don’t you?”

“Anything worth doing is worth doing well,” he replied, sounding as tired as she did.

Which is why they both nearly flew to the ceiling with the abrupt pounding on the bedroom door.

 

Loki snarled and threw a fur over Nora’s now tense form, “All is well, treasure. Only my oaf of a brother can enter this place.  Or consider that to be a discrete knock.”

And yes, no sooner had he said that than the door flew open, showing a glowingly happy Thor brandishing an enormously ugly and simply enormous head, “Loki! Brother!  I have vanquished the final troll.  It was a battle for the-“

“That is wonderful, Thor. Wonderful.  Leave.  Now!”  Loki snarled, jumping out of bed to shove his brother back into the hall and hopefully down the stairs.

Thor gave an amused smile at Loki’s annoyance and nudity, but then noticed Nora for the first time and quickly dropped his gaze, “Apologies to Mistress Nora! I had no idea, I thought you were just … you are not precisely Loki’s type, you see.”

 Loki had tried to kill Thor several times before.  He had never wanted to do so as much as he did now.

Then Nora started laughing. “Really? I didn’t think he had a type other than, you know, breathing.”

 “I wish you both to join me for a victory feast tonight.  I am sure you can both use the sustenance.”

“We accept. Go away, I need a nap.”

 “Nora,” Loki started to speak but she interrupted him.

“We’re going. Suck it up.” 

The smile Thor now gave him was especially irksome, “Yes, brother, suck it up! I shall see you both this night at the Huset for seal meat and wine!”  And with a flourish of his cape was gone.

Nora’s horrified, open mouthed stare was nearly pleasing enough to sate Loki’s annoyance at the thought of dining with his brother.

“Did he say ‘seal’?”

“Yes, treasure. But not to worry, they serve reindeer as well.  Now get back under the blanket, I dread the thought of you taking a chill.”

 

Loki knew that it was wrong to take so much pleasure in Nora’s discomfiture, but her horror was amusing.  And it was her doing that they were in the finest restaurant on Svalbad waiting to dine with Thor instead of in his bed, with him hand feeding her food that she might actually enjoy.  He poured her more of a very tolerable ’97 Grand Cru.

Thor had reserved the entire room for them, but because of the wait staff Loki had to maintain Magnus’s form. The very attentive wait staff who were beside themselves to have both one of the wealthiest Norwegians alive AND one of their ancestral gods patronizing their establishment. 

“I cannot see why you are so appalled, treasure. The lodge is filled with dead creatures, and our bed there and at home are both covered in furs.  Some of them are from Midgardian beasts, as you know.”

She was staring at a huge polar bear fur that covered the most of the back wall of the restaurant, “Yeah, but you guys are barbarians. This is horrible.”  Nora waved her glass at the fur, and the menu, which featured both seal meat and Rudolph predominately.

Loki snorted into his glass, and then leaned over and kissed her cheek, “I do find your worldview hilarious, my sweet. We are the barbarians, one of the oldest and most powerful cultures in the Nine Realms, compared to what?  IPhones, Justin Bieber, and child armies?”

Nora ignored his words, “You just kissed me.”

“Shockingly only on the cheek.” He swirled his glass and took another sip.  Very tolerable.  He signaled the wine steward for another bottle.

“No, I mean you kissed me like that!” She now gestured to his body, “As Magnus.”

“I cannot very well kiss you as myself in such a public place, and I will no longer deny myself the pleasure of kissing you ever again, thus kissing you with Magnus’s inferior lips.”

“But I thought, I mean…. Wasn’t part of the reason you never do that in public because you don’t want you know who finding out about us?” Nora whispered, pointing to the ceiling.

“Heimdal cannot hear you, Nora, only see you. And after what Thor witnessed this afternoon combined and his penchant for gossip there is no way that word will not reach Odin sooner rather than later, so plan to enjoy every moment I have with you.”

“Wow, the God of Not Being Able to Get Out of Your Own Way can change. Amazing.”

“Kiss me, Nora.”

Magnus’s senses may not have been as acute as his own, but even they were able to appreciate the sweetness of the kiss she gave him.

“Bro-, I mean, Magnus! Mistress Nora!”

“Thor, you-,“ Loki looked up at his brother, wildly displeased to see that he was not alone.

Far from it.

“Doctor Foster. Hogunn.  Volstagg.  Fandral. _Sif.”_ He nodded to each of them, “How peculiar it is to see all of you?  Nora, you have met Thor’s entourage before but this is Doctor Jane Foster.  In spite of her taste in lovers she is quite shockingly intelligent.  And in spite of her size she possesses a shockingly powerful right.  Doctor Foster, this is Mistress Nora Walsh, who is far more wonderful than you, or anyone else for that matter.” 

Nora stood up and put her hand out to Jane. Loki alone could tell she was nervous.  Why should she not be? _Her_ taste in lovers argued that she was not only foolish, but a traitor to her entire planet. 

“Um, hi, I … I read the paper you wrote on the Planetary convergence. And I didn’t understand a word of it.  Well, I understood a lot of the words, just not the order they were in.  It’s a real honor.”

For a few endless moments Jane just stared at Nora’s hand. It took all of Loki’s strength to keep himself still and silent.  If Thor’s pretty toy rejected Nora –

 

Jane took Nora’s hand. She had a good grip, “Um, Thor explained to me some of what’s been going on with you two.  Sort of.  Kind of,” she spoke quickly, “is, I mean is Loki…. Doing something to you?” She said, leaning closer to talk to Nora quietly.

“Do you mean magic?” Nora whispered back. How could someone so beautiful be a genius?  Because life was unfair like that.

“Yes.”

“No. I am pretty sure I would be able to tell at this point.  Or Thor would.” 

They were still whispering, and over Jane’s shoulder she could see the other Asgardians leaning in to listen.

Nora could feel Loki lounging as hard as he could.

“Then is it because you’ve been with him so much? Because anyone can seem sympathetic if you are in close quarters with them long enough…”

“Are you talking about Stockholm Syndrome?” Nora tried to keep the laugh out of her voice.

“Well, yes.”

“Is that a Norse crack? Racist.”  Nora snorted and then started to giggle.

For a second Jane stared at her in shock, and then burst out laughing herself

 

Dinner went weird.

Nora was happy that there were animals that she considered appropriate for eating and had a huge steak with extra servings of everything on the side, since she had been doing the equivalent of working out for the last day and had barely eaten a thing. Jane picked at plate of pasta and stared alternately at Loki and Thor all night, as if waiting for something bad to happen.

Sif glared at Loki, Nora, her food, the waiter, Jane, Volstagg once when he dared to laugh at one of the Loki’s jokes, Thor when he reached over to take Jane’s hand, Thor and Jane’s hands, the floor, the ceiling, and finally herself in the mirror in the bathroom when she went at the same time Nora and Jane went.

Proving that some things were truly universal to the female condition.

Fandral flirted with everyone but Sif.

Volstagg ate. And ate.  If seals weren’t endangered before he started they probably were by the time he was finished.  So was rum.  And tequila.  At one point he became drunk enough that he slapped Nora on the shoulder while commenting on how much she reminded him of one of his ex-wives, sending her sprawling onto the tabletop, which had fortunately just been cleared.

Loki, before anyone could blink, was around the table and had cut off Volstagg’s beard, which he tossed onto his lap. “Next time it will be your hand if you touch her again, you ox,” he said, “Nora, switch seats with me.”

Nora rolled her eyes but did what he wanted, knowing that she was probably going to have a mark on both her back and her stomach, and that Loki would be insane later when he found them.

The loss of his beard took the wind out of Volstagg’s sails and he spent the rest of the night plucking at his chin and sipping a margarita.

Hogun was majestically quiet. Nora liked him a lot.

Thor tried to normalize the whole thing. He reminisced about the adventures he and Loki had had with their companions in their youth.  Wars and bar fights and ever more hunting.  He whispered to Nora things that Loki had done, tricks played, mischief managed and occasionally failed at.  He made toasts and speeches. 

It didn’t really work. The Asgardians all kept looking at Loki as if he was a time bomb filled with acid and candy, going to spew everywhere at an unknown time. Jane was scared, but trying to put a good face on it. Finally, when Thor stopped talking long enough for her to get a word in, she looked across the table at Nora 

as if she wanted to say something. Finally she downed a huge gulp of wine and stood up.

“I can’t sit here anymore and eat, and pretend that he’s not responsible for so many people dying in New York. I can’t.  But he also saved my life.  And Thor’s.  So thank you for that, really.  I owe you,” she looked at Loki, who nodded slightly.  “I’m going to my room.  Good luck, you’re going to need it,” she said to Nora, not unkindly, before doing a heel turn and bustling away on her little legs.

Thor looked flustered for a few quiet moments and then went after her, calling her name.

Loki smirked, “I believe that went as well as could be expected. Shall I order another bottle?”

When Thor returned, looking dejected in a way that made Nora want to give him a hug while knowing that would be a bad move, Sif finally burst out.

“All of this feasting is well and good, but we came here to speak of more important matters. Loki’s … dealings with Lorelei, and the matter of Thanos.”

Nora frowned, “Lorelei…? Why do I know tha- Oh, right, Thor told me about her and –,“ she turned to Loki, crossing her arms, “Is _she_ who you stole those paintings with?  She’s the thief, right?” She asked the rest of the table.

Everyone nodded but Loki. Loki didn’t move or speak.

“Well, crap. So those probably aren’t even on Midg-,“ she made a frustrated noise, angry, “Damn it!  Now you have me doing it!  They probably aren’t even on Earth any more, are they?”

Fandral shook his head, “It is believed that Lorelei acquired them on a commission from the Collector. While art works are not his primary obsession he does have a selection of rarities that he has taken for what he calls ‘their protection.’”

Nora wondered what that meant. But she wondered about something else more

“So why? Why did you help her? I know she’s your ex, but…” she trailed off, staring at Loki.  Something was wrong with him.  It was as if he was having a hard time maintaining Magnus.  His hair was growing darker, and his eyes were decidedly green rather than blue, with deep, fiery flecks of red.

His skin was pallid rather than pale, and looked greasy.

His hands trembled.

“Lorelei was in some trouble recently, caused by her sister. In return for the AllFather’s absolution and to save herself from the Isle of Silence,” Sif said, her voice rich with contempt, “she informed on Loki.  To his good fortune she also explained that she had given him a truly pressing reason to break the trust he had been given.”

She actually gave Loki a look of sympathy, which shocked Nora more than anything that had happened recently. Which was a lot of stuff.

Thor placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, a look of deep sorrow on his face. For a moment Nora saw not Loki’s goofy brother, or an Avenger, but a prince, maybe even a king.

“She spoke to us of Thanos, brother. I am…. I would that you had told me.”

Everyone at the table found something to look other than the Odinssons.

“Is Thanos a person?” Nora asked.

Loki stood, knocking over his chair, grabbing Nora and shaking her, “You must never speak his name!” His shape-change had failed entirely, and he seemed to be caught between his Asgardian and Jotunn forms, his eyes red, his touch cold but not freezing, his skin perfectly white but covered in ritual marks.

“Wha-“

Before Nora could finish speaking he had teleported them back to the Lodge.

‘-t?”

He staggered away from her with the effort, his bent over with his hands on his knees. When she put a hand on his back he spun and lifted her, pushing her against the wall, lifting her and wrapping her legs around his hips.

“I need you. I need to feel your warmth, your life,” he gasped into the skin of her neck, her shoulders, her jaw as he kissed her wildly, his mouth wet and cool and everywhere.  He bit her and ground his cock against her stomach, his red gaze holding hers. 

He reached between them, easily holding her up with one arm, and pressed and circled her clit, not with his usual art but roughly, needily. Everything about Loki reeked of desperation and madness. 

Nora’s body responded so quickly it hurt. Even like this she longed for him.  They could never be close enough.  She batted his hand away and unzipped him.  His penis was cold, but the pre-cum leaking from the top was warm, even hot by comparison, and she moaned as she thrust herself onto him.

The coldness spearing into her felt so good after the hours and hours of lovemaking over the last day, as did the mindless fucking he gave her. The heavy, magical wood of the walls creaked and Loki’s icy breath shrouded them in a fog.  He drove into her in hard jerks, but Nora had found her own delirious rhythm that sent her into several small, tremulous orgasms before a rough swivel of Loki’s hips sent her into a full-blown, screaming, and beating on the walls crisis.

When he came, after erratically pounding through her orgasm, the heat of it filling her after the cold of his body relaxed Nora so hard her legs unwrapped from him and only the force of his body pressing her to the wall kept them both from falling as they panted and tried to come back to themselves.

Loki finally resolved back into his Asgardian self. “Perhaps barbarian is a fair assessment, after all.”

Nora pushed a kiss onto his jaw, gasping, “No complaints.”

On unsteady legs they both crossed to the divan near the fireplace and collapsed into a conjoined heap.

“I thought you couldn’t teleport on Earth?” Nora said softly.

“My magic, _some_ of my magics are stronger in my… birth form.”

“Oh,” they listened to the fire and still continued to try and catch their breaths for several long minutes. Loki stroked Nora’s hair, and she fiddled with his.  Finally, when they both seemed gathered, Nora asked, “But who _is_ Thanos?”


	21. Something Sweet as Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki tells his story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, please, please note the new warnings for this story. They are pretty much all for this chapter. It is ugly and horrible, and if you want to skip it to get back to the humor and smut you should be able to. Sorry, but I couldn't figure out a nice way to do this. Please consider yourself trigger warned for physical, sexual, and mental abuse.

There was nothing.

No up, no down, no cold, no heat, no smell, no taste, no touch, no sound, no physical beginning or end to his body.

No time.

Just a moment that had no beginning or ending.

He tried to scream, but he could not hear himself. Could not even feel his mouth opening, his throat filling with sound.

No breathing.

Just a loop of thought. The thought that the voice wanted him to have.  No, not the thought, the lie that the voice wanted him to have.

“You were thrown.”

From time to time (though he could not tell in the least how much time) they would take him from the nothingness and do things to him.

The first time they carried him out, his still broken body was covered in filth and starving. He had not known that he was dirty or hungry in the nothingness, but now it slammed upon him, along with the loneliness and cold and the heat and he wept at how overwhelmed he was. 

Attendants shaped like nightmares bathed him gently and cared for his wounds, he was fed carefully for his stomach had shrunk and he vomited up most of what he was given for the next few days. No one spoke to him, and as some of his strength returned he was desperate for any voice.  He would babble to the silent monsters that saw to his needs, even intimate ones that shamed him in his weakness.

Finally, there was a voice.

“How did you come to be here?” It said, from everywhere around him.

Words. Beautiful words.  That which he loved the most.  “I was a king, and when faced with being less than a king I chose to take my own life.  How have you-“

“You were thrown.”

“No. I made my own choice.  My brother tried to save me, but-“

“You were thrown.”

“No.”

And he was returned to the nothingness.

 

Nothingness and no screaming and no contact, not even of his own flesh, and ever more nothingness.

When they took him out the second time, he had finished healing, and strangely this time he was not hungry or filthy. He was guided by beautiful, delicate creatures to a place of pain.  One of them whispered softly to him in a language so old it had no words and against his will he felt himself change, while another shackled him to a table, its touch both clinical and deft.

“No, please, I do no –“

The icy pleasure of his blood growing cold, of the change in his sight as his eyes transformed, the even greater sensitivity of his flesh as the whorls and marks raised from it. His back bowed as he tried to fight it, to retain his chosen form. 

He failed.

And the Voice offered up a turn of phrase, something Midgardian and familiar and then the beautiful creature who had bound him returned, carrying a heated brand in its bare hand-

 

_It wasn’t flame, but hot metal, not red or white hot, but black hot, so hot it seemed more than cold and it seemed unrecognizable as a sensation and it seemed to melt away his skin and tendon and turn his blood into mist and set the bone alight and then to ash and all the while every nerve was aware and screaming and burning and screaming and burning and screaming and –_

_And then his hands burned. ... and there was screaming and burning and he smelled himself cooking and he screamed around soot and still burning –_

 

“You were thrown.”

“No…” he wanted to scream, but his throat was shredded from the howls and the burning and the char and they threw him back into nothing and for once it was bliss.

 

The next time he was taken from nothing the beings that carried him helplessly through the grey halls were ghostly and featureless, though their touch was not. Everywhere their hands brushed or grabbed became eroticized, and he writhed, erect and panting, enjoying a moment of respite when they placed him on the ground in a large, blood-warm room.

Even the texture of the carpet on his now overly aroused skin was an unbearable provocation and it took his entire will to be still and not to rub himself on it like a bitch in heat.

“You were thrown.”

“No,” his voice was a breathy gasp, a moan.

“Take him.”

The beings came from the very walls, attaching to him like lampreys, mouths everywhere, hands everywhere, strange, hybrid genitalia – both phallus and orifice at once - rubbing on his mouth, his cock, his sphincter. The revolting pleasure of it made his eyes tear and when he tried to crawl from them they pulled him back and made him willing.

He begged them to stop, but wanted them to never stop. At first they would not let him come, and it went on forever and the agony of needing started to make him shake and his heart began to fail under their onslaught and he thought that yes, it would be good to die rather than endure wanting these creatures to continue raping him.

And then they let him come.

And they would not let him stop.

There was no pleasure, only a surging raw need to be emptied and filled and to have it happen over and over and when his body was raw and he bled from everywhere they touched and invaded it was apparently enough and he was tossed into the nothingness like the fucked-out whore that they had made him.

 

Sometimes it was other types of pain than the burning, though the Voice seemed favor that the most of all the clever agonies they gifted him with. There was drowning, and cutting, and breaking.  There were other sessions of foul pleasure with different rapists taking turns at him.  And there was nothingness.

“You were thrown.”

“You were thrown.”

“You were thrown.”

And one time, and he could not say it was a time worse than the others, or better, or different, but one time he let himself say it, gave in, just once and it felt better than anything had ever felt.

“I … I was thrown.”

He lay naked and soaked in sweat and was trying to push himself to his feet.

“Repeat it.”

“I was thrown,” he made it to his knees. It was easier to say.

“Again.”

“I was thrown,” One foot under him. The words were succulent, right.

“Again.”

He stood, “My brother threw me from the Bifrost, while my father watched.”

As the last word escaped him, he found himself before what could only be described as a massive throne of stone, carved out of what once might have been a mountain. Stars that he had no names for glowed overhead, and he found himself dressed in the armor and regalia of a king, draped in his own colors, a massive helm of horns crowning his glory.

Within the throne sat a being that he knew of only as legend. The last Titan, massive, horrifying, exuding a dark majesty. 

In his hands he held a golden scepter that appeared tiny in his grip.

“Approach me, rightful King of Asgard,” the Titans voice was rock upon rock, implacable, amused.

It was the Voice.

He approached, holding his head high.

When he was at the foot of the throne the Titan leaned forward, making a careful assessment at his good work, “Yes, I think you are ready. Ready for so much more.”

Gently, Thanos touched the tip of the scepter to Loki’s heart.

 

“That is who Thanos is.”

When Loki had first started telling his story, he had simply stared at nothing, remembering that real nothingness, his body ramrod straight, his voice monotone.

But at some point he stood up, as if remembering when he couldn’t move of his own free-will, and he paced through the lodge, speaking faster and faster, Nora racing to keep pace with his restlessness. Not wanting to miss a word or thought, not wanting to ask him to repeat himself.

At one point when he was striding back and forth along the top of the staircase she slid next to him, gently steering him towards their bedchamber, not wanting to interrupt the endless vomit of words that was coming from the deepest parts of him. He didn’t even seem to notice she was there, as if at some point he had lost track of who he was telling the story to, and so was telling it to himself.

As Loki walked he clutched at himself, running a hand over the textured surface of the suit jacket he wore, or grasping his own hands, and he raised his voice until it was nearly a shout, as if wanting to give himself as much sensory input as he could. At one point, he took Nora’s hand from his arm and placed it under his shirt, slowly squeezing her fingers closed so they scratched his skin.

Then, as if sick at the feel of it, he threw the hand from him.

She was sure he had no idea he had done either thing.

When he finally wound down, he still paced, now before the fireplace in their room. It reminded her of an old album, hitting that part where the music ends, and it just plays silence as it keeps turning.

Finally, Nora whispered, “Loki.”

He stopped, his head cocked to the side like an animal listening to another animal approaching, and looked at her, his face still quite blank.

“That’s who Thanos is.”

Nora wanted to jump up and wrap her arms around Loki and hold him until she couldn’t stand up. She wanted to find Thor and make him swear that he would kill Thanos, dreadfully, slowly, and that as he died she could dance in his blood.  She wanted to run away and cry in the snow. 

“Thank you for telling me.”

Suddenly he snorted, his eyes focusing, and he shook his head with a rueful grin, “Only you treasure, would thank someone for burdening you with …. Well, I suppose in my case I was already enough of a burden, what’s a little rape and torture added to the bill?”

“Oh, don’t. Don’t pretend, not with me, please,” she crossed over to him, tentatively reaching up to touch to his lean cheeks.  His eyes closed and tears formed on his heavy lashes and rolled down his face, filling Nora’s hands.


	22. It’s So Nice When You Can Sit with Someone and Not Have to Shut Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last, short chapter before our lovers return to Chicago.

After a few moments of crying Loki shut down again, not moving, his eyes staring at nothing.

“Would you… would you like to lay down? Neither of us has had much sleep since I’ve been here,” Nora whispered, lightly cupping his chin to try to get him focus on her words.

He didn’t look at her face, but slowly nodded. “I’m well, do not worry for me.”

“You know I never do what you tell me to do,” she said. She pushed his jacket off his shoulders and started unbuttoning his vest, but then stopped herself and took a step back. “Is it ok if I touch you?  I don’t have to and I don’t- I won’t be hurt if you want me to sleep somewhere else.  Or we can wear something.  When we sleep.  If you want that.”

That focused Loki, and he looked into her eyes and took her fingers and put them back on the buttons. “Other than my time in the dungeons on Asgard, I have not slept clothed since I was a child.  I shudder at the mere thought of it.” 

It was a very Loki thing to say, but was neither light with mockery not dark with insinuation and so sounded nothing like him. Nora finished with his vest and then took his hands and led him to the bed.  When he sat, Nora got down on one knee, put his foot on her other so she could unlace his oxfords.  When she reached for the other he started to fuss.

“I …. You shouldn’t be doing that. I can take care of– I should be helping you,” he tried to stand up, but Nora held his foot and even though he could easily overpower her, it was as if he couldn’t gather the strength to try.

“Shhhh,” she whispered, “I am fine. These are very nice shoes, actually, I don’t mind getting a better look at them.  Or your socks.  Cashmere?”

“Cashmere and angora,” he muttered.

“It’s not fair,” she pulled them off, “you even have nice feet. It’s amazing.  I don’t even like feet.”  She pressed a quick kiss to the cold boney top of each and bustled on to unbuttoning his shirt before he could protest further.

Carefully she slid the linen down Loki’s arms, barely skimming his skin with her fingers. Once it was on the floor she reached for his trousers, but then stopped herself and left her hands resting on his thighs.  She started to unbutton him, and stopped again, looking at his face.  All the time he had been staring at the ground, really at nothing, but her dithering caused him to raise his head and blankly meet her eyes.

Nora gulped and started to move her hands away, “Maybe you want-“

And once again, Loki was back, his eyes clever and strangely soft little smile lifting the side of his thin lips. He took her hands in his and put her fingers to the button of his trousers.  “Pray continue, oh least servile of servants.”  His voice was barely above a whisper.

Nora snorted softly, “Then stand up please, Your Gloriousness.”

With a regal nod he stood, towering over her. She made quick and well-practiced work of his fly, the snug fit of his perfectly tailored pants meaning she had to

push just a little to get them off of even his narrow hips. As ever, he wore nothing under them, and even in his alternately shut down state he was half-erect. 

“Apologies, little chambermaid. He also does what he wants.” His voice was firmer now, his tone dry.

This time Nora snorted louder and teared up. Even now he wanted to make her laugh. “Lift your leg, Your Worshipfulness.  Good, now the other.  Thank you, Your Gracious Excellence.”

Nora pushed the pants into the pile with the rest of the discarded suit, “Allow me to turn down your coverlet, Your Eminence.”

“Very well, pretty drudge,” he said in his most jaded, aristocratic tone.

Once he was in bed Nora quickly undressed herself and climbed in as well, giving him a foot or two of room.

“Your pardon, lazy menial, but are you going to leave my raiment on the floor?”

“I’m just the undressing you and warming your bed serf.   I have a contract.”

“Ah.” And then the God of Persnicketiness waved his hand to clean up the mess.  “Come here.  Please,” he said softly while pulling her towards him.   She let him settle her as he wanted, so she rested on her back and he curled against her side, his face burrowed in her neck, his long arms wrapped around her waist, their legs hopelessly tangled.  He was heavy and the familiar scent of winter forests and cold earth enveloped them. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can,” he murmured into her hair, “I will even endeavor to answer.”

“The mind control….I guess I don’t have a question, I just want to know-“

“You want to know if ….he forced me against my will to assault your home? No.  Not precisely.” He spoke thoughtfully, as if considering, “The Scepter… it does put another will in place of yours, it puts them in your mind, reading your thoughts and adjusting them as they will, but for it to work it plays on your greatest desires.  Eric Selvig wanted knowledge, to see the hidden truths of the universe, and being my slave gave him more than he could have ever dreamt of in a hundred human lives.  Barton wanted to serve something greater than himself, to take those murderous skills of his and use them for good.  And not the realpolitik good that SHIELD offered.  What could be better than a world at perfect peace under the benevolent hand of a God-King?  A world free of war, hunger, suffering?  And I …. I wanted to prove that I was a king.  That both of my fathers were wrong and that I was born for the throne.

“He… Thanos… knew from the moment he found me that I was the perfect tool for him. Or would be, with a few alterations to make me more open to his possibilities, and weak enough for the Scepter to work on even a Jotunn.  Frost Giants are notoriously hard to control.”

“Oh. Well, that makes sense.”

“Nora?”

His voice was soft.

“Yes?”

“Do you… I did many horrible things before I fell into Thanos’ hands. Many horrible things before even I learned of my birth.  I-“

“No.” She turned her head and brushed a kiss on his forehead, “No, no, and no.”

“You don’t know wh-“

“The amount of things I don’t know doesn’t make a single fucking difference. You didn’t deserve what Thanos did to you.  No one deserves that.  It shouldn’t work that way, anyhow.  The terrible things people do can’t be atoned for in pain, at least that’s what I think.  You can only try and do good things, and try not to do the other ones.  And live with the consequences.  Because no one owes you any forgiveness, either. 

“But you did deserve the Hulk treating you like a pit bull with a new toy. I saw the footage when Stark put it online.  That you did deserve.”

Loki leaned up on his arm and gave her a horrified look. “You have seen that?”

“Yup. I watched it on YouTube about a hundred times after I got home from New York and it got funnier every time.”

“I imagine it would,” he wrapped himself back around Nora as he had been before. “We should try and sleep.  Tomorrow we should be leaving, and I fear the journey will be wearying for you, even using the thin place.”

“I wonder if Django is still alive? And how the wedding plans are coming?  I keep forgetting how long it’s been.  Are you ok to go back?”

“I long for our home. But tomorrow we will have to speak with my brother and his camp followers before we leave.”

“We can make them brunch.”

“Chicagoans are so obsessed with this meal. I cannot understand it.”  He said, sleepily, his breath growing deeper and steadier.

 “Actually, the mind control thing explains something from that footage that has had me confused ever since I’ve gotten to know you,” she whispered, not sure if he was still awake.

“What?” His tone was full of dread.

“Your hair. How someone was vain as you are was walking around with one of the trees from A Nightmare Before Christmas on his head has been puzzling the crap out of me.”

Loki fell onto his back as if he had been shot and howled with laughter.

Eventually he fell asleep, and Nora stayed awake all night, in case he needed to be rescued from his nightmares.


	23. I Love You But I Have No Idea What You Are Talking About

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Brunch and a Homecoming

Brunch had been somewhat tense.

The guests were all confused by both the invitation, and other than Jane all were confused by the idea of the meal. “Just treat it as a feast that starts early and goes into the day, rather than one that starts late and goes on till morning,” Loki counseled.  He had been glad for the distraction of the preparations for both himself and Nora.  He felt her gaze upon him from time to time, her concern a warm and comforting weight, but her anxiety also apparent to him.

No one wished to sit, no doubt hoping to make a quick escape, so they all stood in the kitchen, eating from the platters on the teakwood island, making stilted conversation.

While things were briefly made better by a great many Bloody Mary’s, it then became somewhat worse when Nora snapped at Sif, Jane, and Volstagg at different times for saying things to Loki that she did not care for.

Loki had found himself unwittingly touched by his lovely Irish wolfhound savaging the metaphoric throats of Jane and Volstagg, but he had intervened when she had gone after Sif. He did not trust the irritable warrior to not grow physically aggressive with Nora, being as she was already on edge due to spending time with Thor’s pretty lover. 

Still, the hybrid-meal had served its purpose, allowing Loki and the others to exchange information on Thanos, and how close he may actually be to finding out Loki’s whereabouts. It seemed that the Titan did not know that the All-Father was decidedly unimaginative in his punishment of wayward children, and so he was not looking in the direction of Midgard.

Yet.

Loki knew that it would be inevitable for Thanos’ gaze to return again to this Realm. Even if he did not look here to find the would-be king, he would need a way to find someone, perhaps even send another army, to recover the Scepter and the Infinity Stone within it.  He required it to complete his on-going sartorial project and be able to wield the Infinity Gauntlet and end the universe.

“Wait, he wants to what?” Nora said, slamming down her empty coffee cup and grabbing a full Bloody Mary glass, “Doesn’t he know he’s one of the idiots who lives in the universe?”

Dr. Foster took a drink herself, “Does he plan on surviving somehow? I mean I could kind of understand your megalomaniacal endgame-“

“Thank you,” Loki said with a slight nod that she shook her head at.

“-but ending everything? Yeah, why?”

“Thanos is called the Mad Titan for a reason,” Thor grumbled, putting his arm softly around Jane.

Loki laughed a bit, “True, brother. But Thanos’ a part of madness is one that you and I are both intimately familiar with.  He is in love.   He is ardently, unrestrainedly, fervidly, and in his case, hopelessly in love.  The destruction of the universe is to be his wedding gift to his beloved.”

“Who shall be destroyed as well. He is truly mad.”  Thor shook his head.

“I cannot believe it. He wishes the power to end the universe, but not to actually do so,“ Fandral said with the reasonable tone of a man’s whose thoughts and emotions had always been his own.

“No, and yes. Thanos’ sweetheart, the mistress of his heart, is Death Herself.  And he believes that with this one great sacrifice he can win Her heart forever.  Even when I was….even when Thanos’ mind was in my mind I never understood this to be a literal desire.  I was convinced that this was just some poetry on his part, a bit of monstrous whimsy.  But now, as a fellow love-struck madman,” he reached over to Nora and lifted her hand to his lips, “I can tell you that if he is able to complete the Gauntlet his doom shall be upon us all.”

Nora sighed, “Great. Anyone want to just skip the tomato juice and celery?” she asked, grabbing a frozen bottle of Spirytus.

Seven hands went up.

 

The thin place between the worlds was a ways from the lodge, and Thor walked with them, clearly not quite ready to say goodbye again to Loki. Nora tried to fall back a little to give them a bit more time, but Loki simply slowed his steps as well.  Then, concerned she was just having trouble walking through the snow, he made a brushing motion with his hand and a neat path curved before them.

“You have grown more comfortable with your… er… being that you are… as such… a-“ Thor stumbled over his words and a large chunk of ice that suddenly formed under his boot, sending him onto his ass.

“Yes, quite a bit more comfortable with my being as such, brother. Thank you for noticing,” Loki said, grandly ushering Nora past the fallen god.

“Loki, be good,” she muttered at him, “he’s trying to understand.”

“And failing spectacularly as ever. Very well,” he tossed a gesture behind them and Thor found the rest of the short walk easier.

“You should visit us in Chicago. Maybe for St. Patrick’s Day.  They dye the river green so you know he’s going to be in a good mood.” Nora said, hugging Thor.

“If I would be welcomed it would please me greatly, Mistress Nora,” he answered, looking hopefully to his brother.

Loki frowned at both of them and then sighed, “Very well. But not for St. Patrick’s Day.  So touristy.  But yes, you are welcome in my home.  With some warning.  Charles will be fine, but I fear even Mrs. Beekman’s stoic heart might be over taxed by the sight of an Avenger in the dining room.”

“C’mon, it’s not like he’s Cap,” Nora let go of Thor, who put out his arm to Loki and they did one of those forearm grip handshakes that always looked so dumb in the movies but was impressive when two gods did it. Still dumb, but impressive.

When Thor left them Loki took Nora’s hand, “I will need a few drops of your blood to open the way for you.”

“Ok, how-,” before Nora could finish speaking one of his daggers had appeared from somewhere and he had pricked the tip of her forefinger. The point was so sharp it took a moment for the pain to register, during which he gave himself a slash across his palm and as gently as he could squeezed a few drops of her blood into the gash, and then raised her wounded finger to his lips and lightly sucked on it to stop the bleeding.

“Jesus, you hand!” Nora wasn’t sure if she was more aroused on by the feel of his wet, sucking mouth or more horrified by how deeply he had cut himself and how little he seemed to care.

“I heal with unfair speed, treasure,” he cupped his hand as the blood welled up, then dipped a finger into it and painted a shape like a doorway onto the air itself. By the time he had finished all of the blood was gone from his hand and the wound was just a red indentation that was fading before her eyes. 

The outline wavered and moved in the wind and then grew more substantial, filling in and darkening until it looked like a solid oak door standing in the forest. Loki examined it carefully, making sure everything about it was right.  “This should be sufficient for your safety passing through, but I worry for the path, so,” and he lifted Nora into his arms, “this way I am in no danger of losing track of you.  Bundle yourself the rest of the way in your cape, and pull up the hood.  The paths are very cold.”

“You think it’s cold? Awesome.  Why isn’t anything ever pleasant?  Sunny and 72?  Dry and cool?”

“Get the knob, will you?”

 

The path between the worlds was a short one, since the thin place already existed, which was good because Nora was pretty sure she could feel ice crystals forming in her blood. She clutched against Loki, gathering what little warmth was coming off of him.  “Can you do something to warm me up?” she choked out, her words stuttering as her teeth banged together.

“Performing magic can be very dangerous here. Spells go awry, and become much stronger.  Even a small cantrip to warm your feet could end up engulfing you in flames.”  He said, with the same level of concern he might show at barista having given him 2% instead of whole milk in his mocha.  “It won’t be long now.”

“It’s just, um, my eyelashes are frozen together and I can’t open my eyes!” Nora shrieked a little, rubbing her face on the fur collar of his coat, trying to break the ice off. She felt her heart beating too fast, between the cold and the panicky feeling of her eyes being glued shut.

“Stop that! You can harm yourself!”  He broke into a jog.  It was only a few minutes to get the rest of the way to the doorway Loki had opened in the 999.   “CHARLES!  Bring very warm water and a piece of soft toweling!”  Nora felt Loki set her down, “Let go, my love,” he murmured to her, trying to get her hands to unclench.

“I’m trying,” she gritted out, trying to force her painfully cold fingers to let go of him.

“Sir, Miss Walsh, welcome home,” she heard Charles calm, grey voice, sounding for all the world as if they had just stepped out to run an errand and not been gone for a month and a half. There was also clink metal as something was set down next to her, “shall I prepare a snack?  Or perhaps tea?” 

There was a ‘fah-woosh’ noise and suddenly there was a great deal of warm air smelling of wood smoke blowing towards her.

“Tea, in here if you would,” Loki said crisply, “Nora, stay still, I am going to care for your eyes.”

The ice that had formed on her lashes and eyebrows scratched like tiny bits of glass and didn’t seem to want to melt away. She could feel a damp, not quite hot cloth softly touch her closed lids, tenderly wiping at the ice.  After several times moistening the cloth again he finished one eye, and she blinked open to see they were both sitting on the bed in his chamber.  He gave her a small grin, “Now the other.”

By the time Charles returned with the tea things and several plates of cookies, Nora could see again and was wrapping a towel around her soaking hair.

Loki handed his coat and Nora’s cloak to him, “We won’t be returning to business until tomorrow, Charles. Please let Mrs. Beekman that there will two for breakfast tomorrow, and thank her for me for … just thank her.  And thank you as well for attempting to reason with me.  It wasn’t possible, but I applaud the effort.”

Charles nodded slightly, a pale flush of pink across his cheeks at this unseemly display of emotion.

“There is no need, sir. I live to serve.  Literally, as you know.  But it is very good to see you …. together.”

The now completely red-faced man let himself out of the room.

“What happened to the bed? This is a different mattress.  And headboard, too.” Nora asked, sipping tea and taking off her shoes, “And the tub.  It’s brass now, not wood.  And the Degas?  What happened to the Degas?  Did you remodel when I left?” 

She shimmied out of her soggy wool pants and sat cross-legged next to the fire.

Loki simply made his clothing disappear and shrugged on one of his endless number of robes. “I believe I mentioned I was rather…. I acted out a touch when you left… but I was provoked, there was the matter of some very limp bacon, and I –“

“What did you do, exactly?” Nora asked, cocking an eyebrow and her head at him, amusement and dread warring for pride of place on her face.

He sat next to her and took the sugar cookie from her hand, eating it before finally confessing, “I attacked our bed with a dagger, rather vigorously. I set fire to the bathtub.  And I threw the Degas at Charles.  Who, I must say has done a laudable job returning the room to a livable state.  I am sure the rest of the dwelling is equally well situated.”

“The rest… you destroyed the entire condo? What is the matter with you?”

“I did not touch any of your things. And if you are unable to say what the matter is with me, then no one ever will,” he ate another cookie and then lay down beside her. 

She stroked his hair, closing her eyes in pleasure at the dense, dark feel of it. Her other hand rested on where his elegant throat met his shoulder, and she ran the tips of her fingers over and over along the line of his sharp collarbone.  The fire was intense enough that her muscles had gone soft, and she leaned back against the chair, thinking she might fall asleep right there.

Then she realized Loki had already done so. And that she couldn’t.  She watched his sleeping face, like something from a naughty fairytale and then sighed and got up.  Things weren’t going to get back to what passed for normal on their own.  She had a lot to do.

 

When Loki woke, stretching like an indolent tiger before the fire, he was surprised that Nora had managed to shift him and slip away. He must have been deeply asleep indeed.  He padded out of the bedchamber, knowing where he would find her.

“Do you never think of anything but work?” He asked, leaning on in the doorway of the office, watching her type an email while listening to a voicemail message.

While he had slept Nora had clearly been busy, not only showering and dressing in her neat little skirt and sweater, but also sorting out the piles of correspondence that had accumulated and putting out the fires of commerce.

She did not look up, “Considering that you’ve had this side of the company – which is just the two of us – closed down for over a month that’s pretty funny. Thank god the un-magical part of the consultancy can run without you.  Anyway, this email I really had to send today, the Russians still haven’t sent their last payment, by the way.  And I just got off the phone from talking Marissa out of killing me.  We really have to go the karaoke tomorrow night or-“she finally turned towards him.  “You’re naked.”

“Yes.” He stalked towards her.  “You must be exhausted, you’ve been up for nearly a day.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she stood up and perched against her desk, rather than conversing with his genitalia.

Loki cocked his head, staring at where she looked at the ground. Nora and sleep were enemies of old, but since her journey and their reunion that seemed to have changed. 

Ah.

“Because of my revelation.”

She started to object, doubtless to share him the guilt of it, but then changed her mind, “When I close my eyes all I can see is what he did to you. I never thought I could hate like I do right now.  It’s making me sick.” 

Loki dressed himself in Midgardian clothing.

“Now you’re wearing sweats and a t-shirt. Are you feeling ok?” Nora asked, pressing her hand to his forehead. 

“The pants are velvet,” he took her hand and brushed his lips over the thin skin on the inside of her wrist. She shivered and he laced his fingers through her short hair, gathering her close to him, and rocking slightly, as you might with an ailing child for as long as she would allow it.

“I have one last thing I have to do,” she worked her way out of his arms and back into her chair, opening something in the computer. He knew she was trying to not burden him, was concerned with his potential fragility rather than her own.  “This will just take a couple minutes.  After we can-“

 

Whatever Nora had been about to suggest, Loki had a different idea.   He sank down and sat on the ground, placing his head in her lap.

He trailed his fingers up Nora’s calf, stroking the skin behin

“We can move to the bed, then,” his purr vibrated against her hipbone and through her veins.

“Are you….” she forced her pelvis to not arch up against him, “Do you feel ….”

“Nora….” He drawled out her name slowly, while his hand now soothed back up her long shin, then one finger idly teased along the inside of her thighs, but going no higher. He then repeated with two fingers, then three, then four, crooning her name over and over, hypnotically, his soft growl of a voice working through her like an addiction.  “Unless you consider me now too despoiled to bed, that is where I always long to be with you.  Never doubt my overarching, my _devastating_ need for you.”

Nora was furious. At herself.  At fate.  At Asgard.  At every fucking thing.  Except Thanos.  The word didn’t exist in English for how that felt about Thanos.  Maybe in German, but not English.

“Of course I don’t consider you despoiled! You are per-“ Before she could rant on Loki raised himself up, gave her a lazy smile, and grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her lips to his, holding her in place while he teased and coaxed the anger out of her, leaving her panting into his mouth.

He stood, pulling her with him, still gripping Nora’s hair, still kissing her, all the while guiding her as she walked on her tiptoe down the hall to their bed. It was one steady yank, giving her goosebumps.  He sat with her on his lap.  “First we need to undress you,” he in a tender sing-song, while swirling his tongue in her ear, finally letting go of her hair, “Remove your undergarment, I am sure they are soaked through and chilling you by now.”

Nora snorted softly, “Vain...”

“I can smell you,” he ignored her and placed a graceful hand between her legs, making a wet sound that made her moan, “I can hear you. And I can certainly feel you, and even see your panties glistening around my fingers.  Now what sense have I not used yet to experience how utterly aroused you are?”  He removed his hand from her and tapped his lips thoughtfully, “Oh, yes… I recall it to me now.” Then he licked his fingers clean, his eyes rolling back with pleasure.

Nora spread her legs, pushing his outward, and moved so his velvet covered cock was nestled comfortably against her. Loki ran his hands under her shirt, the thin strip of callous from centuries handling weapons scratching across her ribs, his nimble fingertips pushing her bra out of the way so to play freely.  He lightly pinched her nipples, while hushing into her ear, “I could make you come just by playing with your sweet tips.  Just circling and touching, touching and circling, for as long as you could bear it.”

Now she was so wet she had soaked through his clothing as well as her own.

With a ratcheting laugh in her ear that made Nora want to lose all control, Loki whispered a bit of magic and she was naked.

The wet velvet covered cock against her was too much provocation, and she began to work her hips so her cunt rubbed against it. When she tried to shift her angle Loki wrapped an arm around her waist and held her still. 

“Not so fast, treasure. I do not find you sufficiently prepared.”

“And I think you are a – oofff!” Nora had the breath knocked out of her as was abruptly jerked from his lap and twirled around so she was flat on her back on the bed, Loki straddling her with a half smirk, his hands back on her breasts. “-bastard,” she finished, and then pulled him down to kiss her again. This time she forced her tongue, with little effort, into his mouth. 

Nearly breathless, he moaned, “Call me terrible names, my treasure, my sweet, delicate love. And fuck me hard.”  He rolled them over, his clothing disappearing, and when they stopped Nora was atop him, pierced by his cock.

Nora obliged, slamming her hands onto the thick muscles on his chest, pushing herself up so his tip was just barely within her, and then dropped herself down, grinding hard. Now he arched up, offering his neck to her, and she bit him near the shoulder, holding on while working herself on him, pushing her hips at the end of every down stroke.  She grabbed his braids, wrapping them around her fists, while Loki pushed her thighs farther outward so they burned and she could feel him against her cervix.

Now she could only undulate on him, feeling an intense, strange orgasm starting. Now back in control, Loki slowed, while pushing her hips further back and forth, until she felt like she was in a trance, where it built through her but wouldn’t happen. And wouldn’t happen.  And wouldn’t happen.  Her skin was almost painfully sensitive as she sat on the cusp of her completion, her head back, no longer aware of anything but the pleasure and the frustration. 

When finally, one teardrop rolled down her face, her neck, and landed on Loki’s chest, and he rasped out, “Come for me, come and come and come.”

It happened in a rolling surge that worked its way through her body, followed by another and another like a series of warm, heavy downpours over a field. Not multiple orgasms, but one that simply kept echoing and singing until she collapsed.

Loki rolled her and anchored her legs over his hips, fucking slowly into the orgasm that still made her tremble and moan under him. When an especially luscious wave took her, the hitching, musical sigh that she only made when she was her most vulnerable, the most exposed, pushed him to his own peak.

His head fell to the pillow next to hers. Nora felt him press kiss after kiss against her cheek, her temple, her hair, while whispering, “My princess, my treasure, my love, my love, my love,” until she stopped him with her mouth.

 


	24. It sounds stupid now that I think about it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to work and singing.

The first day back to work had its challenges, of course. There were many angry clients, who had sent a variety of angry messages, emails, texts, and in a few cases, curses.

“This agitation is beyond me. The out of office messages were quite clear!” Loki threw a pen down, and paced back and forth between their desks, smoothing his hands through Magnus’ auburn curls.  “What can possibly be bothering these people so thoroughly?  You would be horrified at the language your godmother, The Hive Queen used in her voicemail.  And it is to both of our good fortune that I am immune to most spells when wearing the torc or I would now be amongst the phallically challenged.” 

Nora hastily finished her latest attempt to appease _El Coven de abuelas enojadas de la Ciudad de México_ by offering them a discount on their next month of services. While they were still quite … angry, naturally, they had at least called off the killer bee attack they had been threatening for the last hour.

Also, because her voice was still raspy from the cold of the path between worlds, they were sending her an herbal packet to be mixed with hot chocolate, since they _were_ grandmothers, and it pleased them that a white girl could speak adequate Spanish.

“You do realize that normal businesses, even magical ones, don’t just abruptly close up for nearly two months without any contact with their customers?” She asked, taking another huge swig of honeyed tea in the vain hope she might not sound like a frog at karaoke that night. 

Loki made a dismissive gesture while rolling his eyes upwards, perhaps silently entreating his NotFather to give him strength. “It was hardly so much as a month and a half, leaving alone two.”

“For some of us that’s a long time,” Nora muttered into her tea.

“What?”

“Nothing, sweetie.”

“Sweetie?”

“I’m just trying some things out. Honey?  Darling?  Pet?”

“No. No.  And definitely not.”

“I’ll work on it. Speaking of work,” she stood up and put her hands on his shoulders, turning him to face the door and lightly shoving, “why don’t you go do something actually useful and go to your workroom and finish that Reality Hacking powder that we were supposed to have delivered to that client in Tibet at the first of the year, hmmm?”

“You could join me in the workroom,” he whispered, Magnus’s voice dropping down into Loki’s, and making her have to lock her knees for a few different reasons.

“I don’t like your workroom. It smells like roses and fenugreek covered in motor oil.  And the air feels wrong.  Plus, if you want to continue to be rich and powerful someone needs to placate… everyone actually.  So go, let the grownups work,” she said, sitting back at her desk.

“I am more than a thousand years your senior. Pet.  Ooohhh, maybe I do like th-“

He ducked out of the door as she winged a crystal paperweight at his head.

 

Nora was rather nervous, and Loki wisely kept to himself that he found it oddly adorable.

“Now, I know that Marissa and Dre know we are together. Sort of.   I mean I think they think we are only having sex.  But no one else knows.  Does Kelsey know?  Did you tell her?  No, you wouldn’t, I know that.  And Loretta, she’s going to –“

She had been going on in that manner since they had gotten into the car (once she had asked after Nigel and his family, of course). She would grab his hand, giving it a squeeze, then drop it and look out of the window.  And then start again.

“It amuses me that while you had perfect comfort being with me before my brother and his entourage, and you were actually eager to ‘out’ us to your delightful cousin and her revolting lover, you are quite shy about something as harmless as being open with your friends as to our liaison.”

At least it is harmless now, Loki thought. All of the harm had already been done when Thor had chosen to share with his boon hangers-on that Nora was now his lover.  Word would have reached Odin by now, and it was only a matter of time before he would decide that Nora could clearly not be trusted to be Loki’s jailer now that she had been suborned and subverted by his naughty child’s deceiving tongue and agile cock.

Or was that the other way around?

Because it would never occur to Odin that he might be the one that had been transmogrified. And he would never understand that Loki was now far more Nora’s prisoner than he had ever been before.

“I know,” she sighed and leaned back against him, still tense, “I think it’s because we’re still lying to them, except not by omission now. I feel like telling them I’m with Magnus, when I’m really with you is just wrong.”

“If you say so. At least it means I can do this at any time I wish,” he placed a soft kiss just below her eye, another on the hinge of her jaw, making his way towards her mouth.

“That feels weird,” she sighed, after he had finished and settled her more calmly against him.

“Is it the beard?”

“The lips.”

Because spring had finally started to peek around the corner of winter at the city, everyone in Chicago seemed to be out on the streets that evening, dressed too lightly for actual temperature, all excited as rabbits looking to mate.

It was to the CDV crew’s good fortune that Loki’s standing bribe at the Temple of Pizza had secured them again the best table in the restaurant. The resentful looks they that were being shot at them from the people who had been waiting all dropped when Magnus entered.  The aura of power and giving no fucks that surrounded him quelled any protest that might have been made about fairness.

Life was not fair, and they should all consider themselves privileged to learn that lesson over something as petty as waiting for a table, Loki thought, while sipping a very well made ale.

Nora, needless to say, felt horribly guilty. But she did not offer to give up the table, either.

She was visibly fretting, not certain how to address the issue of their coupledom.

“Bitch! Where have you been all of my life?”  Marissa asked, throwing her arms around Nora, “Who is this mystery relative, and damn you look good, and what the fuck?” 

She hustled her to the far end of the table, where she had saved a seat.

“Hi, Boss,” Kelsey was looked very spring-like, dressed in a pink tracksuit which, in spite of its curve hugging fit, he knew concealed two firearms, a matching pair of stilettos, and a grenade. “I saved you a chair.  It’s a full house tonight.”

“Thank you, my dear,” he leaned over, giving her an air kiss, “but I prefer to be closer to Nora.”

He exchanged handshakes with Phil, Mr. Choe, who was still courting the formidable Loretta, with whom he exchanged a hug, Chelsea- who was pregnant again it appeared- and Dre, as he made his way down the table. Nora and Marissa were turned away from the others, heads together, as Nora told a massively bowdlerized version of her adventures with Baba Yaga.

“So crazy Russian lady is a client? Did you get paid for that time?  Did she, mighty Magnus?”  Marissa tossed over her shoulder, and then jumped to see how close he was standing.

“I would say we both paid, majestic Marissa,” he answered.

And then he leaned Nora’s chair onto on leg, spun it quickly about so she was facing him, and kissed her open, shocked mouth.

There may have been applause. Dre definitely punched his shoulder.  Marissa gave him a knowing nod, and a warning glare that warred with the smile she gave to Nora for dominance.  Mr. Choe took the opportunity to order a round of top shelf tequila shots on Magnus’s bill. 

Kelsey serenaded the happy couple with Everything Has Changed, leaving them somewhat largely less happy than they had been before that, but still very much in love.

Dre and Marissa, who were now just a few weeks away from their wedding, sang a very inappropriate version of Drunk In Love, trying to get as much as they could out of their systems before having to spend all of their time with one or the other of their families.

It wasn’t until the last song, that Nora finally took the stage after much persuading, and complaining about the quality of her voice that night.

The members of the band were genuinely pleased to see her, after her several months absence, and the torture of those nights knowing that they would not have the mercy of having one proper singer to support. Or so it seemed to Loki.

The regulars and the wait-staff were also pleased with her return, and the newer members of the crowd were quite confused by the applause and hoots she received.

“Ok, ok, everyone, cool it,” she laughed into the microphone, “So tonight I’m going to do something I’ve never done before. This is one of those songs my aunt used to sing in her cabaret act, and I always loved it, but I’ve never sung it before.  So tonight, I’m singing it for… he knows who.

_I've got your number_

_I know you inside out_

_You ain't no Eagle Scout_

_You're all at sea_

_Oh yes, you brag a lot_

_Wave your own flag a lot_

_But you're unsure a lot_

_You're a lot like me, oh_

_I've got your number_

_And what you're looking for_

_And what you're looking for_

_Just suits me fine_

_We'll break the rules a lot_

_We'll be damn fools a lot_

_But then why should we not_

_How could we not combine when_

_I've got your number_

_And I've got the glow you've got_

_I've got your number_

_And more_

_So go ahead and pick a number_

_From 1 to 10_

_You're losing streak is over_

_I can't win again_

_And here's the punchline_

_You've got mine.”_

“Oh, yes,” Loki thought. “Yes I do.”

 

After the Temple, Magnus had taken everyone for another drink, and Phil had insisted that they cram into Danny’s, his regular back in the day. The warren of rooms that had once been a home and had been a dive bar forever was just as packed and comfy as Nora remembered from her own misspent years.  Marissa grabbed her and they put their arms around each other’s waists so they could dance in one of the miniscule spots near the DJ while they talked.  Luckily it was still before ten or they would have been out of luck even getting in.

“So it’s serious?” Marissa asked cautiously as they danced and elbowed in equal measure.

Nora almost answered, “As death,” but realized that would be as uncomforting as it would be accurate. “Yes.  It’s very, very serious.  I’ve never been in love like this.  Not even close.  I don’t even know that I would say I have ever been in love before, if I compared how I felt to how I feel.”

Marissa stopped cold, “Fuck. You aren’t even being all Miss Queen of the Smart-asses 2014 about it.  You got it that bad?”

“So, so much worse than bad.”

“May I?” A soft voice had hushed over her head, and Marissa nodded, handing her off to Magnus, and Nora spent the rest of the night leaning her cheek on his soft shirt front, there only being only enough room for them to sway together, regardless of what was being spun.

Back at the 999, she pushed off her shoes as soon as they were the through the door, while Loki tugged off the torc.

“Charles?” Loki called out.  There was no answer.  “Excellent.  I told him to take the night off, but I had reason to believe he did not understand what that meant,” he took Nora’s hand, “Come with me.”

“I’m beat, can’t we….” She had let herself be pulled along to the living room, even though she was longing for their bed.

The fireplace was lit (naturally) and an old bottle with two glasses was waiting on the coffee table.

Loki poured them each a glass of.... “What is this?” It was thick, and a purple that bordered on black, and smelled deliciously of vanilla, dark berries, and old leaves, with a faint erotic muskiness that shouldn’t have been appealing in a drink but was.

“Jotunn Ice wine,” he sat down in that spread-legged, loose-limbed way of his and made a negligent gesture for her to try a sip.

“Funny boy,” she sat next to him and drank.

It was luscious and fragrant, like making love in an over-blown garden by moonlight. Nora couldn’t drink deeply enough, and over the sound of her own swallows she heard Loki.

“I am funny, but in this case I am also sincere. Do not overdo, treasure, I need you to be cognizant,” he gently took the glass from her and set it down with a click.  Nora was suddenly very aware that this couch, which she had sat upon dozens of times since, was the first place that they had been together sexually, and her body flushed.

Loki kept talking, ignoring her state, which she knew he had to be aware of. “This was far from easy to obtain, and cost me a number of favors.  I can only assume that it was brought here when the Frost Giants attempted to conquer Midgard.  It must be something in our blood.  At any rate, it was buried beneath the permafrost in the far, far north for who knows how long?  A cask of it was found by magical treasure hunters sometime in the last century, and decanted to be sold bottle by bottle to those looking for the rarest and the strangest.  This is the last of it.”

He took his own sip. His eyes flashed deep red and his skin turned softly blue, and then returned.  “It is quite something.”

“How could they, how could your ancestors have made this? I thought the planet was icebound?”

He looked at the fire, pulling her against him, “There are high mountains and deep caverns, filled with hot springs and magma. There they grow what they need, from plants cultivated raided from the countless worlds they have vanquished, or, one supposes, made traded with.  The strongest, the most tenacious of fruits, able to withstand the harshest of climates.”

“Making the most unbelievably good wine.”

“So it would seem,” Loki held up his glass, “To us, princess.”

Nora shook her head, refusing to clink, “I told you not to call me that.”

“No,” Loki took both of their glasses and set them down, “you told me not to call you that, and I told you I would not until we were wed, and you were a princess in fact as well as in truth.”

And then, to Nora’s everlasting shock, he slid from the couch and knelt beside her, “My treasure, my Nora, marry me,” from his pocket he produced a small leather box, which he opened, showing a square cut emerald set in elaborately worked antique gold. It looked like a man’s ring from another time.  It looked like the man who held it out to her – utterly beautiful and priceless and like it would do terrible damage if you hit someone with it.

This was crazy. He was a prince.  He was a fucking god!  She was –

“You can’t-“

He put his fingers to her lips, “I do. And I wish you would as well,” then he cocked his head and gave her his most sneering smile, the one that she always wanted to wipe away with her mouth, “Besides, if you take my hand I will able to call you princess.  If you do not, I shall be forced to call you ‘pet’, it’s entirely up to you.”

“You ass,” she said, holding out her hand, looking at it shake.

“So that is a yes?” He queried, sounding bored, but his hands shook even more than hers did, and when the ring was in place he pulled her into his lap, rocking them both from side to side.

Nora buried her face against his neck, “Yes. It’s a yes.  It will always be a yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Danny's is a fantastic bar, you should go there, but not on a weekend night.


	25. Don’t Look at Me, I Know What it Does to You

When Black Widow fucked him for the second time, Loki should have known that his run of good days was at an end. But he was too happy, too …. Ugh… satisfied with life to sense the little bitch coming up behind him, stroking her strap-on, ready to bend him over and take him, willing or no.

It had been an especially lovely week, of course. In early May spring had finally burst out into Chicago with a furious exuberance after a frozen remainder of March and a grim and snowy April. 

Not that it had mattered much, Nora had fallen into bed exhausted every night for weeks, having spent her days trying to straighten out Loki’s business issues, in spite of his (honest) insistence that he cared not. And her evenings were subsumed by first a visit from her brother Sam.

Loki had found himself fascinated by Sam. He was not sure if it was his taciturn nature, his gentle, gigantic wolf-dog Brutus who was hideously bullied by Django and rather reminded him of the form he took himself when shapeshifting, or that fact that Sam looked so much like Nora, that Loki found himself ….

He found himself entertaining a few three-way (and for that matter four-way) fantasies involving the siblings that were so corrupt, flagitious, and naughty he could actually feel the slap that Nora would give him for even thinking of such things.

The slap was probably his favorite part.

After Sam had returned to Alaska, with a firm handshake and wonderfully threatening mutter about what he would do to Magnus if he should end up treating Nora like her last fiancé had, Loki had thought he would finally have Nora’s full attention back on him. Where it belonged.

Alas, for Loki, they then entered the run up to Marissa and Dre’s ever more complicated and dramatic wedding in May. Upon finishing work Nora would head to the south suburbs to lend the groom moral support, and to keep the bride from physically assaulting her future mother-in-law. 

There were even a few nights that Loki had willingly forgone sex with Nora, just tucking his poor, exhausted love against his body for the night, and laying as still as possible until she fell asleep and then taking himself off to take himself off in his workroom.

He had really been very understanding about the whole thing.

So when he woke up the Sunday before the wedding with the windows of his room thrown open to let in the warm and arboreal winds of spring, and felt Nora’s feverish, welcoming kisses along his shaft, Loki felt it was only what he deserved. He stretched, putting one arm behind his head to get comfortable to watch her, his other hand deep in her hair. 

Nora lifted an eyebrow at him, and then took his head in with a mercilessly strong suck that scraped along her teeth.

“Bor…” he gasped out, not quite awake, but very alert.

She moved so she straddled on of his thighs, her wet center sliding onto them, “If you would just take a little more in, treasure…” he suggested softly.

Shaking her head, and beginning a long, long hum, sustained by the vocal training her aunt had insisted on, she took him into her hands, which were covered with something tingling and slick, and began to make a slow turning motion with both hands going in the opposite direction from each other.

Sweet Gods of the Gods, what had he done to be so blessed?

Nothing good.

With each turn her hands moved a little farther down, and so did her marvelous, hot mouth. He fisted her short hair, but knew better than to push or shove.  Nora had a great deal of sexual patience, if not as much as he did, and she would no doubt stop and start over.  This morning he felt no desire to play. 

He did lift his pelvis, knowing she loved watching him move, and she hummed in appreciation as she took more and more of him in.

Her hands were divine, but her mouth was Satanic, and by the time she had taken all of him deep within her he had lost any sense of restraint and was pulling her hair and pushing himself up into her and moaning vulgarities.   “You make me use you like a whore, Nora.  Like a stale jade who means nothing to me.”

That made her smile around his cock, reaching under him to breach him with one of her slick and tingling fingers, hooking just right and….

His orgasm exploded out of him in a surge that left him panting and with the perfect clarity of emptiness.

“Nora…” he said weakly as she crawled up next to him, wiping her mouth and hands on the velvet blankets. “What was that for?” he managed to gasp out, “I know you do not usually prefer to take me in so far.”

Leaning over him, Nora laughed, “No, I don’t but you’ve been very patient for the last month with me paying attention to anything other than you, so I though you should have a treat.”

“Is this your hair?” Loki was horrified to see several strands hanging from his fingers.

“Yeah,” she rubbed her scalp. “It’s probably lucky I didn’t bite when you did that.  Do I have a bald spot?”

“No, I am terribly sorry, treasure.” He kissed the spot he had pulled, “What is your plan for the day?”

“Nothing. I told Marissa that she was on her own, but if she killed Dre’s mama I wouldn’t help her hide the body until tomorrow.”

“Good,” he whispered, softly rolling her over, “then please allow me to occupy you until dinner,” he trailed his fingers along the knobs of her spine.

“That’s at seven,” she said, sounding a little panicked. “You do know its morning, right?”

“So it is. Charles!” He called out, “Tell Mrs. Beekman to plan for a late dinner.  A very late dinner.”

In exchange for his mercy in allowing her a lunch break, Nora conceded to setting a wedding date.

Spooning cake into her mouth, he offered, “May 28?”

“What?” She nearly choked, “No, that’s in a few weeks, so no.  Why the 28th?”

“It’s our anniversary, it seemed …. Romantic?” Loki ate some of the cake as well.  Who knew that carrots could be anything other than simply plate filler?  Midgardian cuisine was, if he was to be strictly honest with himself for the only time in his life, simply so beyond that of Asgard as to be in different thing entirely.

“Our anniversary.”

“We first met on May 28th of last year.”

“Jesus.” Nora fell back on to the pillows, “Has it only been a year?  Not even a year?”

“Your shock is decidedly unflattering. Very well, you are correct, even I could not plan such a significant event properly in such a time.  For your birthday, then.”

“No. August is too hot for me to wear a ridiculous dress.  And knowing you, it’s going to be very fucking ridiculous.”

“You are being so difficult,” Loki shoved another bite of cake into her mouth, “My birthday, then.”

“When is your birthday? Shit!  Did I miss your birthday?”  Nora bit her lip, which meant he had to kiss her.

“Yes. November 8th by your reckoning.”

She snorted, “Scorpio. So not surprised…..ok.”

“Ok?”

“Ok we can get married on November 8th. I should be ready by then.”

Loki tossed the rest of the cake over his shoulder, pushed Nora’s legs apart, and pulled her poor, sore center to his mouth with an evil grin.

 

Marissa and Dre’s wedding went off without too much drama, thanks to a three-part plan enacted by Dre’s sister Sharon, Marissa’s Father Javier, and Nora. Sharon’s job was to keep her mother Laurel as far away from Marissa as physically possible before the ceremony started (which she did by quite literally taking one for the team, intentionally tearing the hem of her dress and having a fake shrieking fit that “only her mama could fix it right!”). 

Javier stood outside of the room that Dre and the groomsmen were waiting in, wearing sun-glasses and a stony expression. Looking like a member of the secret service, he waved away his own mother, Marissa’s godmother, any number of Gallegos aunts, and all of the other relatives who wanted to know why Dre wasn’t converting to Catholicism for the sake of the many children they expected the couple to start having right away, since Marissa was already thirty-one.

Nora’s job was to hurry back and forth between Marissa and Dre’s respective rooms trying to straighten out the huge fight they had had at the rehearsal dinner the night before.

A fight that had something to do with the weird but very, um, large, Game of Thrones themed stripper at Marissa’s annoying bachelorette party. And the large sum of money Dre had lost playing poker at his bachelor party the same night.

The fact that she succeed, and only had to lie a few times, AND did it while wearing a midnight blue satin bridesmaid’s dress, complete with corset, three inch heels, and a fascinator, made Nora feel that she was quite possibly the greatest negotiator treaties in the modern era and considered offering her services to the government for a sizable fee.

Loki was not as impressed as he should have been by her genius, “It was a tiff between nervous lovers, Nora. I have actually negotiated a peace treaty, and it is quite a bit more involved than you seem to be aware of.”

“This is your fault! You should have been the one straightening their shit out!”

“You were the one who asked my assistance making the festal arrangements,” he said disinterestedly while looking at his phone.

“I asked you to find a stripper. Not hire Khal Nudo and his Pony act!”

Magnus gave an elegant shrug, “The bride enjoyed it. Is that not all that truly matters?”

“Fine. But then did you have to kick Dre’s ass at poker?  You certainly don’t need the money.”

“One should not play if one does not at least try to win,” now he sounded really bored, which made Nora suspicious.

“You cheated, didn’t you?”

He gave her a look and put out his hand, “How do you do? My name is Loki, God of Lies and Mischief.  And you are?”

Because he was Magnus at the moment it hurt a great deal when she drove one of the three inch bastards she was wearing into the top of his very expensive oxfords. He was still limping when they danced at the reception.

Unfortunately Nora had to let the smug dick have his pleasure at everyone they knew at the wedding losing their minds of the engagement ring. How beautiful it was.  How happy she must be.  What a catch he was.  And blah blah blah.  But her favorite comment came from Mr. Choe who nodded over the ring and then slapped Magnus on the back, “That some fucking rock.  Good thing for you Eddie died, or you wouldn’t be getting those long legs wrapped around you on the regular.”

Which led to some violence on Loretta’s part and some choking on Loki’s.

Late in the night, they walked away from the reception and down to the lake. Nora’s feet were killing her, and she kicked her shoes off and walked into the cold water.  “We could do it here.”  She said, gesturing to the South Shore Cultural Center.  “I know our wedding won’t be this big but it’s pretty.”

Loki sniffed at National Landmark, “It’s quite….tolerable, but I had something else in mind.”

She kicked some water at him, “What, Versailles?”

He frowned at her, “Have you been looking on my computer again?”

 

So all was well until the following Friday when SHIELD fell.

When he had arrived at the SHIELD facility to obtain the Tesseract, Loki had also acquired a number of SHIELD agents as well, and in doing so had discovered that the would-be white hats had a very dark, very red secret in their midst. One of his endless regrets was that he had not been the one to reveal the canker in the heart of his beloved organization to Commander Fury.

As Captain Rogers and his Pals went to war against the very agency that had been created in his memory, Loki made popcorn.

Well, he had Mrs. Beekman make popcorn, but the result was the same.

Nora leaned forward, watching the CNN coverage of the giant ships attacking each other, the destruction of the Triskelion, the glimpses of Rogers and some new player with an impressive arm and death metal eyeliner as they fought each other in and around the battle.

Loki leaned back and tossed kernels into the air to catch in his mouth, trying not to chortle too loudly.

“This is horrible,” Nora whispered. “So many people….”

Loki choked on an unpopped piece of corn, “Yes, horrible. Think of all of the janitorial workers, and, um, there’s probably a Starbucks in at least one of those structures.  The poor baristas.  Everyone else knew what they were signing up for.  SHIELD and HYDRA alike.”

Nora gave him a sad look, “It shouldn’t be like that.”

He reached out and pulled her close to him, wanting to offer comfort, but unwilling to lie to her.

Later that night, after dinner, Loki came out of his workroom to find Nora at her desk, watching something.

“I am going to the kitchen. Would you like cookies?” He asked.

Nora jumped up, looking guilty, and slammed her computer close, “Um, I’ll come with you. I want a drink.  Do you want a drink?”  She seemed slightly dazed. 

Loki was intrigued, “What were you looking at, treasure? Was it pornography?”  He edged around her, reaching for her laptop, and before she could stop him snatched it up, “I so hope it was.  If you like we could-“

It was not pornography.

Or rather, it was, in the sense of being deeply offensive and morally foul.

Amongst the endless SHIELD secrets that Agent Romanov had sent out into the world on the internet was, of course, the files on the Battle of New York and the events leading up to it, which included the surveillance videos from the helicarrier.

He was not surprised that Nora had found them. They both had news alerts for anytime his name would come up in any context.  Loki for the sake of his vanity, Nora out of concern that their secret might find its way free.  Her phone had probably been pinging all night, while he was trying to create a translation spell for a hand-written, encoded grimoire he had picked up whilst in Russia.

There were a number of videos listed. His arrival at the carrier, his being marched through ship, being placed in the glass cage, his exchange with Fury, his interrogation by Black Widow.  All of those he could see Nora had watched several times.  

The video that was currently showing she had already watched more than a dozen times.

It was strange to see himself. A self he no longer recognized.  Full of such black, acidic hate.  He watched himself laugh at his brother, preparing to send him to his possible death. 

Then, the hero arriving to save the god. The enormous gun, the calm demeanor of a man who knows the difference between right and wrong and does not fear to do the hard thing, the thing that needs doing. 

He watched himself, his true self, stab the man in the back. He looked at Thor’s face and for the first time understood that he was not crying for the death of his friend, but what he though was the final end of their brotherhood.

He closed the laptop and placed it back on the desk exactly where Nora liked it.

“His name was Phil.”

 


	26. A Lifetime of Bad Acts Still Deserves a Little Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Springtime is beautiful in Chicago, Loki and Nora have visitors.

Nora would have given anything to take back the last few hours.

Anything. Want a few years of her life?  Here they are.  Enjoy.  Her aunt’s house?  Please go ahead, and all of her belongings with it.  Her singing voice.  Her speaking voice.  Everything was up for grabs to any magician, alien, or super scientist who would let her just go back to seven o’clock, see those fucking alerts and just not watched them even once.

Anything. But Loki.  Who she wasn’t sure was hers to give up right now. 

The way he had looked at her when he saw what she had been doing! As if he had taken a blow from the least likely source and wasn’t able to breathe.  When she had started to explain herself, he had just shaken his head, not wanting to hear it, and left the condo without another word.

And what was she going to tell him, anyway? Did she even know why she had watched that horror show over and over again?  Was it because it was Loki, but it wasn’t her Loki?  That it was shocking to see that and think there was any way it was the same person as her witty, mercurial, occasionally grandiloquent,  erotically merciless, scheming, curious, dark, and yet strangely kind lover?  That she was maybe looking for something there, even if she didn’t know what it was? 

Nora paced around the office, wanting to scream. There was a big part of her that wanted to go look for him, but she had no idea where Loki would go.  Apart from work business, and the odd shopping trip he never seemed to go out without her.  Even if she had known she wouldn’t have gone.  He deserved his time.

 

Nora flew out of the library when she heard the keys in the door near three that morning. In fact she was going so fast she collided with Charles, bouncing off of the surprisingly sturdy valet. 

“My apologies, Miss Walsh!” He cried out in an appalled voice, leaning down to help her up as Loki let himself in and stopped in the door way, head cocked in confusion.

“Charles, what are you doing to Nora?”

“Sir, I-“

“I ran into him,” Nora said, standing up, “I was worried you weren’t coming back.”

“I live here. Why are you looking at me like that?”  He tossed his keys in the crystal bowl that sat on the table near the door, like he did every time he came, and the loud ping echoed through the apartment as he frowned down at Nora.

Charles seemed to disappear.

“Do you want me to leave?” She asked softly.

“You live here, too. More or less.”  He said, sounding confused.

Nora threw herself on his chest, “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to ….. I just …. I-“

He pushed her lightly away. Loki never broke off contact. 

“Oh, God,” she sobbed, turning to go just away.  

“Nora!” Strong hands grabbed her and pulled her back to his chest, long arms wrapping around her, “Shhhh, what’s the matter my treasure?”  His voice was very soft and he rocked her slightly, stroking her hair.

“I’m sorry,” she said to his shirt, gripping it in her fists.

“We established that. And I have told you over and again that you must never apologize to me for anything.”

“But, I – you must be so upset with me.”

“No, not really.”

“Then why did you push me away?”

He gestured to a small, dented white pastry box, “You were about to destroy your paczki. Did you know there is an all-night Polish bakery in Rogers Park?”

“What were you doing all the way up there?” She asked, opening the box and looking at two of the most perfect, softball sized paczkis, “Bavarian crème?”

“Of course. I needed to take a walk.  Since you prefer not to go to the dreaded North Side I thought I would see it for myself.  And since we were apart for the day you said these are traditionally eaten I thought I would bring them for us.”

Loki reached over and brushed away those few tears his shirt had not absorbed, “I was not angry with you for watching the recordings. It hurt me to think of you seeing such dreadful things.  I wish to protect you, Nora, at all times and from all things.  Especially from me, but I know I cannot.

“And watching myself kill that man, I had a terrible realization. I would do everything again, because all of those monstrous deeds led me to you.”

“That is the most distressing yet romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Which is why I needed to … take a moment.”

“You’ve been gone for seven hours.”

“An Asgardian moment is correspondingly longer than a Midgardian one.”

“Ha,” Nora felt herself flush, thinking that she could let herself off the hook for the mea culpa she had been planning, but she knew she shouldn’t. Loki may not be upset with her, but she was upset with herself.  For this ridiculous display of neediness if nothing else.

“Ummm…. While you were gone, I was thinking that … it isn’t fair that I know all of your bad … everything. Actually, I am sure I don’t know even a portion of it, now that I think about it, but I know quite a bit.  So I thought maybe, in the interest of fairness, you should know some of mine.”

Loki picked up the pastry box and headed to the kitchen, “Charles, put on the kettle, will you?” He called out, “Miss Walsh is going to regale me with her long history of misdeeds, and I am sure I will fall asleep from boredom if I am not fortified with tea and sugar.”

Following behind him, Nora gave him a hard swat to the ass. He turned, an eyebrow raised, “What was that for?  I only ask so I can be certain to do it again.”

“Just because I’m not a megalomaniacal space wizard doesn’t mean I’m a saint, damn it.”

“No, princess, you are no saint.”

Which, as Nora was pretty sure he was hoping, earned him another swat.

 

They sat on either side of the kitchen island, the black granite surface a freshly cleaned of crème, pastry flakes, and spilled tea.

Loki had been stealing looks at Nora. Her eyes were still red, as was her nose.  She had clearly cried some before his arrival home as well as after.  She was not pretty when she cried or after the fact, and if he was the better person he aped being he would feel some guilt over causing her tears, but he relished them.  Every tear Nora cried for him, over him, was a reassurance that she still had not given up upon him, even after seeing what she had seen tonight. 

Although it distressed him equally to know she thought him capable of leaving her over … anything.

But he was also enchanted at the idea of Nora sharing her terrible deeds with him. To try and make him feel better.  Him. 

“So, what sins have you to confess to me, now that I am prepared for such shocking revelations? Shoplifting lip balm as a tween?  Taking a twenty out of Aunt Claire’s purse to buy beer when you were in high school?  Duct taping your college roommate into her dorm room when she had an important exam?”

She frowned at him. “Yes, yes, and no.  I did however make ‘mint chocolate chip’ ice cream with ex-lax when that bitch wouldn’t stop eating my food out of the fridge.  This is something else.”  She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and slid it to him, “It’s already up, just hit play.”

He started the recording.

After it was done he put the phone back down, started to slide it back to her, changed his mind and played it again.

“Can the volume be increased?”

“That’s as loud as it can go.”

“But, you’re so quiet.”

She shrugged.

He played it again, and then paused it at a certain spot and pointed at the screen, “What is he doing here? I am sure I am not seeing this correctly.”

“He’s eating me out.”

“He CERTAINLY is not!”

She shrugged. Again.

He restarted it, “Is that you orgasming or a mouse whispering in windstorm?”

“It’s me faking an orgasm, actually. I told you before, back when I would only come once at time, and that happened earlier.  You saw it.”

“I did? If you say.  And that creature-“

“Patrick.”

“That Patrick could not tell the difference?”

“He didn’t know the difference. Anyway, he wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Baldur’s shining ass! Did you just yawn at that moment?”

Nora nodded.

“Why did you do this … nauseating thing?”

“He asked me to, I thought I was in love with him. I was only twenty-one that helped.  And I didn’t think he would put it on the internet after I broke up with him for cheating, that’s for sure.”

Loki started creating a mental grocery list of what he would need to create a spell that would blind anyone who had watched this abomination. He also-

“You can’t kill him. Promise.”

“Death is too swift and kind for this –“

“No.”

"……"

“No! Promise.”

“Very well,” Loki crossed his arms and attempted not to pout.

“So now you know my most shameful secret, which, even if it wasn’t in the same universe as your stuff, at least you got to see how hot my body was when I was twenty-one. All I got to see was how you look with blue eyes.  Not a fan, by the way.”

“The you of then does not compare to the you of now,” Loki finally turned off the recording. Nora raised an eyebrow at him, “I am quite sincere.  Even these,” he lightly brushed the dark circles under her eyes with a soft fingertip, “are beautiful to me because they are for me.  As when I make you laugh.”

Nora pulled herself onto the island, and crawled across to him, “Kiss me, big man, like you mean business.”

Loki put one hand on the side of her neck, and the other on her shoulder and pulled her mouth to his, and kissed her like he always did. Like it might be the last time.

 

The next afternoon, when Nora finally crawled out of bed, it was such a perfect spring day she decided to walk to the dwelling of the Great Satan (the Gold Coast Starbucks). Loki was in the middle of a call to the Chief Guildsman of the London Goblin Market, arguing in Cornish about an infestation of black kittens in their ductwork. 

That place was clearly a mess and the argument about the solution was getting pretty heated, so Nora left him to it, figuring she would be back before he knew she was gone.

Walking a little out of her way, Nora stopped dead outside of a florist that was in a tiny coach house on Franklin, not quite believing what she was seeing. Inside the little place was all chandeliers and trophy wives, and normally she would have actually fled, but she had to know.

“May I help you?” It took Nora a moment to realize that the pleasant woman with the very expensive haircut worked here.

“Um, yeah, actually I have a question,” She waited for the woman to cross her arms impatiently and give her the ‘you know you can’t afford anything so why are you bothering me?’ look, but instead she nodded, even more pleasantly, and it occurred to Nora, looking down at the handmade Italian shoes that she had gotten herself as a homecoming present, the expensive, butter soft jeans, the oversized linen shirt of Magnus’s that she had stolen because the pale pink suited her coloring better than his, and her cashmere pea coat, that she probably did belong here.

That son of a bastard had actually made her sophisticated while she wasn’t paying attention!

He would never let her live it down.

“Um, are those really green flowers in the window?”

“Rosa 'Bengale à Fleurs Vertes', yes. Well, they are a rare hybrid of them, since they are normally only available as a bush. We are the only florist in the city that has them.  They are quite pretty in a larger arrangement.”

“I want a dozen of them. Stems, right?”  Nora said, waiting for a disagreement.

“Of course, will we be delivering them for you?”

“No, we will be delivering them to him myself.”

Nora couldn’t wait to see the look on Loki’s face. She was pretty sure that in his centuries of life, no one had ever given him flowers and the thought of surprisingly him tickled her, which is why she was both disappointed and not surprised at all when she arrived back at the 999 to see a familiar cement truck idling on the street.

It gave an eager little honk when it saw her, the mixer spinning happily. Nora sighed and patted its fender, “I missed you too, Truck.”

She found Baba Yaga in the garage, rolling craps next to Loki’s Jag with Paulo and Mickey from the grounds crew and the evening doorman, Torey. “Yah!  Pay Baba!  Granny needs to buy gin,” the ancient witch gleefully hustled the young men, and then nodded to Nora, “Little Thief, let me finish taking these fish, then we go.  You owe me a day.”

“Fuck.” Nora knew there was nothing she could do about it.  Loki had tried to break the geas when they had first returned home, which had just ended in a cloud that smelled like over-cooked cabbage irrupting from Nora’s head, and the sound of BY’s laughter echoing through the condo for an hour.  “Ok, I’ll be back by the time you’re done, I’ll drop these off and tell Magnus what’s up, and get rid of the stuff he gave me.”

BY grabbed a handful of cash, stuffing it between her sagging breasts, and shook her head. “No time.  And no need.  You can keep the things, it’s only a day, but we are going now.”

“But-“

“Now, Little Thief.” Baba Yaga no longer sounded like a zany, mildly psychopathic granny.  She sounded like frozen earth and hunger. 

“Fine,” Nora drained the rest of her coffee and then handed Torey the roses, “Can you take these up to Mr. Magnusson? Tell them that my crazy Russian aunt needs me and I’ll be back tomorrow.”  She looked through her wallet, and finding no cash she reached into BY’s bra and pulled out a ten, “Here.  Thanks man.”

“Hey!”

“You keep calling me thief I’m going to keep stealing your shit. Let’s get this over with.”

 

Loki stared at the doorman and the bouquet.

“Why, Torey, this is so sudden.”

The boy blushed, “Um, they’re from Miss Walsh, sir. She said to tell you her Russian aunt needs her, but that she’ll be back tomorrow.”

Damn that hag! “Thank you, Torey,” he said, absently taking the flowers and closing the door.  Green roses, streaked with a touch of pink, smelling faintly of grass and apples.  Loki sagged back against the wall and felt himself smile.  “Thank you, treasure.”

Mrs. Beekman made quite a fuss. “We should use Miss Walsh’s aunt’s vase that she gave you for helping clean out the house.   She would like that.  They’ll be very pretty in the Carnival glass.”

“Yes, that’s a good thought.”

He had finished arranging them to his satisfaction and was trying to decide where to put them –the small dining room table they always ate at? Their bedside?  The office?  When he heard someone else at the door,  and the sound of Charles answering it. 

 And then the unmistakable sound of a body sliding down a wall and landing with heavy thud.

Loki stepped around the table and put a hand over Mrs. Beekman’s mouth, gesturing with his head towards the pantry. She shook her head under his hand.  She was not a MMA for the Over Sixties for nothing, but Loki shook his head, giving her a small magical push.

 No one who could take out Charles quickly and with no struggle would view Mrs. Beekman as a challenge, fierce though she may be.

When she had softly clicked the door closed Loki slid off the torc, took the chef’s and carving knives from the cutlery drawer, and stepped into the hallway.

 


	27. This is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora goes for a ride and Loki decides to go shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to wonder beta Caffiend for finding time for my stories in her crazy life.

Nora climbed into the cab of Truck, giving the dashboard a friendly pat. “So where are we going?”  She asked over the mixer’s happy rumble.

Baba Yaga made a dismissive wave as she pulled around the corner on to the inner Drive, “None of your business, you are just here for the ride and to look at the scenery. Now let me think, little thief.” 

B.Y. began to chant in something that Nora didn’t sounded like Russian. Or like anything human. She was also driving very, very slowly, which was weird since the Little Old Lady From Siberia tended to have a lead foot.

Nora didn’t like any of that. She trusted BY marginally less than she did Loki when he got vague and dismissive and superior.  In both cases it meant they were up to something she wouldn’t like and that they couldn’t think of a good enough lie to placate her with.

“Listen, I expect to back here, right here, not just Chicago, or Illinois, or America but right here, in twenty-four hours and not a second longer. I’ve been reading up on magical deals and I have some rights, too.”

As they crept around the corner onto Walton it started to get dark. “What are you up to?”  Nora grabbed B.Y.’s arm.  It felt like there was nothing but a well-gnawed bone under her pink nylon cardigan.

Baba Yaga pulled her arm free and turned a glare on Nora, actually hissing at her like a cat, “Stop it, little thief! Only twenty-four hours.  I know!  Now shut up!  Baba needs to concentrate.”

Nora crossed her arms and glared out of the window. It grew darker as they inched onto a surprisingly empty Michigan Ave., and then started to lighten again as they turned  back onto Lake Shore Dr. East, and then pulled back in front of the building and parked.

“What?” B.Y. said innocently to the astonished look on Nora’s face, “Twenty-four hours, exactly.  In spite of someone’s interference.  Time travel going forward is a lot of work, little thief.  So many possibilities to avoid.  You are very ungrateful.”

“What are you up to?”

“You owed me a day, I have taken a day. That’s all, suspicious girl.”

Nora glared at the witch, but knew that she wouldn’t say more. When Baba Yaga was closed mouthed she was like a deeply dug grave.  She snatched her bag from where it lay at her feet, “You want to come say hi?  We have cake.  We always have cake.”

When they reached the top floor Nora knew something was wrong. It might have been the silence.  It might have been the lingering smell of blood and what she now knew was magic.  It was mostly likely because the front door had been burst outwards and was now a mess of splinters and shards.

Without a thought of who might be around Nora jumped over the wreckage, running into the condo shouting for Loki.

 

Twenty-four hours before-

The first assassin dropped from the ceiling, landing on Loki’s back, its short sword trying to pierce the open place in his clavicle. The weapon was laced with black magic, so it did not shatter but nor was it able to do much more than break the skin. 

Loki grabbed his attacker, flipping it over his shoulder with a hard toss so it collided with another of its kind that had appeared as if from nowhere to charge silently towards them. Beyond them he could see Charles slumped on the floor near the still open door.

Then he ducked as a blade flew past him to bury itself to the hilt the woodwork.

He sighed. They had just finished remodeling.

Spinning, he threw the carving knife sideways so the weight of the handle would not affect the trajectory. It took the assassin across its throat, slicing deeply into its trachea, a thick, soupy gurgle its dying benediction. 

The first two had quickly found their feet, one leaping up onto the wall and running in a crouch paralleling the ground, while the other knelt and began to make ritualistic gestures with its hands (which appeared human). A thick cloud of dark power began to form.

“None of that,” Loki said, rushing down the hall. As he passed the oncoming assassin his bent backwards under the graceful arc of its blade, stabbing with the chef’s knife into the weak place where the bone formed between the eyes and nose. His hand followed the blade into his would-be killer’s skull, pulverizing it brain. 

There was a nearly inaudible series of shuffling noises coming from everywhere in his home. There were a large number of other assassins here, and he had no time to play, even though he was enjoying stretching his muscles.  He was grateful for his recent hunting trip with Thor, or he might be even rustier than he currently felt.

Loki reached the magician just before it finished its spell, although it had already gathered enough form that he could not cause it to dissipate by physical disruption alone. He stood in the midst of the darkness, opening his hands to gather it in.  It burned and froze and caressed and scratched and seduced as it entered him. 

Shuddering in pleasure, Loki gave an alluring smile to the assassin, “It has been … some time since I have tasted such an exquisitely baleful vigor. My lover does not care for me to indulge.  But there are times one simply must eat the whole cake.”

Even though its face was thoroughly covered in red cloth he could sense shock and a highly controlled fear.   Loki cocked his head, “You were not warned about me, were you?  You and your chums were told you were coming for Magnus… Your employer is quite a bastard it seems.”  He spun slowly, hands out at his sides, black miasma writhing around them, “It’s flattering to know that even in that life I have been able to make such dangerous enemies.”

The power turned into a whip in his right hand, and sword in his left. With a deafening crack the whip slid incorporeally through the wall to his office and then burst back through, wrapped around the neck of another red clad killer.  With a jerk of his wrist, Loki freed the creature half way through the wall, and its scream when it was bisected by the plaster and wood was loud enough to rouse Charles.

He looked down at the spellcaster, “You really should not have come to my house,” he said with a vulpine smile, cutting off its head, shouting, “Olly olly oxen free. Come out and play!”

 

It took nearly six hours for Loki and Charles to find and deal with the rest of the ninjas. Once they got into the walls they could be as hard to eradicate at roaches.  Finally, however, he was satisfied that they had rooted out the last of them, but was more than dissatisfied to realize that one of them had escaped.

With his secrets.

He let himself fall into a wing-backed chair in the bedroom, blood from his cuffs and the heels of his boots staining the upholstery and another priceless rug. The sword and whip were mere wisps of black smoke now, most of their potency spent.  Loki resisted the urge to take in what little was left, to give in the near addiction he had to such power, but instead chose to dispel them and allow it to float away into the ether.

Charles, suit back in order, tie still slightly crooked, brought him a scotch. “Mrs. Beekman is in the safe room in the back of the pantry.  Please see she leaves by the back door.  Fortunately I think we left the kitchen in good order.  Please see her home yourself, if you would.”

“Yes, sir,” Charles went to perform his duties but then stopped, “Sir, might I ask you a question?”

Loki sighed wearily. It had been some time since he had fought for so long, used so much magic to such violent ends.  It was wonderful in the moment, but ultimately it had lost its savor.  He had too many concerns that had never occurred to him in the past.  What if Mrs. Beekman chose to leave the safe room before they had been cleared of assassins?  Would there be some delivery today that would bring Rudy or Torey to the penthouse?  Surely the Tomlinsons the floor below had heard THAT, soundproofing spell or no?  Would they come up to complain?

He refused to think about what would have happened if they had attacked yesterday, or waited until tomorrow

Suddenly collateral damage seemed like a dreadful thing.

“Yes, Charles. Please.”  He took a sip of the Macallan Single Cask.

“What is your plan, sir? There is…. You look to be contemplating something unpleasant.”

“More unpleasant than black magic wielding ninjas invading my home and undoing all of your excellent work restoring it after our contretemps? Unpleasant indeed.”  He took another sip and then looked at his excellent valet.  “Charles, within the rules of your contract do your services only pass on to my heirs in the case of my death, or would my permanent absence be sufficient to cause the geas to switch to a new master?”

Charles considered it for a moment, “Yes. One of my ancestors had a similar situation when his master accidently sent himself into an alternate time and could not return.  Her contract immediately transferred to his daughter.”

It was clear that only his iron discipline was restraining Charles from asking more question. “Give Mrs.  Beekman my most abject of apologies, Charles.”

“Sir.”

Loki finished his drink, looked at his again destroyed bed, and knew what he had to do.

He found his phone under a pile of invoices, which were under the arm of a ninja, sword still in hand, on Nora’s desk.

While he opened his contacts the arm turned to dust and blew away. He walked through his home and saw the same happening to all of the pieces and parts of assassin.  How convenient, as Charles had mentioned they tasted “too dead” for his palate. 

He sent a text and then made two phone calls. The first was to Nora’s godmother, the Hive Queen.  “Frédérique, my sweet, how are you?  Never mind, I don’t care.  What I do care for is the loan of your plane for a quick jaunt, and since you owe me for that little misunderstanding when you tried to curse my penis I am hoping you can have it all gassed up and waiting for me when I reach O’Hare.  I simply have to get to New York today.”

The second call went, unsurprisingly, to voice mail.

 

Eighteen hours later –

He wasn’t there.

Nora climbed over piles of destroyed furniture and art works and books. Even Loki’s precious workroom was disrupted. His various caldrons were knocked over, glasses shattered, rare, ancient texts were nothing more than confetti.  She kicked a pile of herbs and began to sneeze.

She found, Baba Yaga was in the office, the most badly damaged of the rooms, idly picking through an open box of cookies that was miraculously untouched. Nora grabbed her, shaking, not caring that she might as well be sticking her hand in a wasps’ nest.  “What did you do?” 

“Stop!” Nora felt her muscles freeze and BY stepped away from her grip, then spoke, with an uncharacteristic gentleness, “You would have died here, little thief.  I saw.  You would have died right here, and the baby god would have gone mad.  Madder. Then so many died I lost count of the bodies.  I am sorry, but you are a good girl and this is better.”

B.Y. disappeared. Nora, freed from her spell, fell to her knees. 

 

Only the kitchen seemed to have been spared in the chaos and there she found Charles calmly folding napkins.

“Madame,” he bowed to her. Something was terribly wrong.  Charles only bowed to Loki. 

“Where is he?”

Charles looked uncomfortable, “Mr. Friggason, that is to say, Master Loki, is gone. I can feel that my … services have transferred to you, which means that he will not be returning.”

“What? I-“

Her cellphone suddenly went nuts, pinging and buzzing in her pocket, as twenty-four hours’ worth of alerts caught up with her bout of time travel. Nora pulled it out, impatiently starting to turn it off, her stomach filling with burning bile and her chest aching as if she were breathing through lungs full of jagged glass.

Then she saw the alerts.

“Villain Loki Spotted in New York!”

“A Return to the Scene of the Crime!”

Nora gulped and played a video that had been shot on a cellphone and uploaded to YouTube the night before. The image was shaky, but it was clearly Loki, looking especially resplendent in a Gucci black on black suit, his walking stick in hand, swaggering through the swiftly parting and loudly freaking out crowd. 

Someone shouted out, “Hey Loki, why ya’ here again?”

He gave a predator’s smile, “I have an appointment at Barney’s.”

The crowd laughed and cheered in spite of themselves. New Yorkers loved balls.

There were various other videos, amateur and professional alike of his epically casual stroll. When he reached his destination (Barney’s, like he said), Iron Man, Captain America, and Black Widow were waiting for him.

No one had gotten close enough to record what was said, but Loki’s elegant attire transformed in a slow wave of golden light into his iconic armor and helm, his walking stick now a spear. For a second Nora felt her throat closing up in fear, but the fight was over before it began.  The villain defeated and hauled away.  Only she, and Black Widow based on her confused expression, seemed to realize that something about his resistance didn’t ring true.

“Loki To Be Held In Avengers Tower!” Blared another notice, “Stark claims fall of SHIELD makes Tower only safe place to hold supervillain.”

“He’ll like that. Supervillain,” she murmured, trying to keep from yelling. “What the fuck does he think he’s doing?”

“I believe Master Loki –“

“I know Charles. I just don’t…”

Her phone chimed. She had a voicemail.  When she saw who had called and when her legs went weak and she sat on the floor.  Charles rushed to her aid but she shook her head, “Leave me alone, please.  Go away.”  Reluctantly he nodded, giving her privacy, but not going far.

Nora’s hands were so cold, and shaking so hard, that she had to tap the icon to retrieve her message a dozen times before it would play.

There was a long silence, where she could hear his breathing. Nora closed her eyes and thought of the times she had lain against his side, his arm coiled around her ribs, her legs tangled with his, her nose nestled in the hollow of his graceful throat, when all they did was listening to each other breath.

They had been like that this morning, before he slipped out of bed, whispering for her to go back to sleep.

She paused the message and rested her forehead on her knees for a minute. When she could she started it again.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was hushed and slow, the way he spoke to her when she was tired and would lay her head in his lap and he would pet her hair in long, languorous strokes, telling her stories about his life before everything fell apart.  Stories about playing tricks on Thor, seducing beautiful woman and even more beautiful men, studying magic and thievery and the martial arts, making amends to Thor, usually with his mother twisting his arm, but not always.  Story after story after story until she fell asleep.

“Thank you for the roses, they are beautiful…. Forgive me.” There was a long pause, and when he spoke again his voice was firmer, but this soft.

“Perhaps you cannot. Considering my own behavior when you told me you were leaving me for but a month it is rankest hypocrisy to ask you to presume to ask your forgiveness when I plan to leave you forever, but I have never feared being seen as a hypocrite.  We are all hypocrites.  Even you my Nora.  Because I cannot keep you safe, and if I were to say that to your face you would swear to me that you would hide when there was danger.  That you would run when death came for me.  But I was there the day you ran into the fire to save not just your friends, but others who you could barely stomach.  No matter what happened, you would not hide and you would not run, even if I begged you to you would never leave me.  So I must leave you.  And I must ask you to forgive.

“I find myself feeling concern for others as well. For the friends, and how strange that word tastes in my mouth, but for the friends I have made.  For my servants.  For all of the good people and bad that surround me now.  I am as much of a danger to them as to you.  And I am too much of a coward to want to see the scorn and fear in their eyes, when the truth of who I have been all along becomes known to them.

“Oh forgive me, Nora! Please.  I think I will know somehow if you do.  I will be lonely for so long, let me have that peace of mind at least.”

 There was a sob in his voice, and then a laugh, “Sorry for the melodrama.  I only regret that I could not have made love to you one last time.  Or a thousand more.  And that I could not thank the hag for taking you away when she did.  Thank her for me, when you can bring yourself to forgive her.

“I love you, treasure, and I always will.”

She stared at the phone for a long time after his voice stopped. “You didn’t let me say goodbye,” she whispered to the picture of a black leopard she used for Loki. 

Then she screamed it, over and over, too furious to cry.

Finally, stopped and muttered, “We’ll see about that,” deleting the message. She couldn’t let herself be distracted by the maudlin impulse to listen to it constantly, which she knew she would.  She was going to be far too busy.

“Charles! See what you can do about the place, again.  Sorry about that.  But first salvage what you can from the workroom and the office.” she stood up and stalked down the hallway to the bedroom to change clothes, punching in a phone number that she memorized, knowing it was too dangerous to be in her phone, “Hey!  How are things at the bottom of the world?  And do you feel up to doing a favor for your favorite cousin?”


	28. Ok, Everyone Who Hates Loki Raise Your Hand!

It had been two days since Loki had been deposited in one of the containment cells in Stark’s eyesore of a monument to his ambition and penis and not one of the Avengers had been by to see him yet.

  
Which was really rather rude, as there would quite likely be no Avengers were it not for him. He was not expecting any thanks for his part in the forming of their little clique, nothing like an Edible Arrangment every May 4th, but still a brief stop in for a hello, maybe some mild taunting about his ‘capture’, something.

  
But apart from a very nervous few functionaries and some armed ex-SHIELD operatives that Stark had clearly picked up at some kind of clearance sale when that organisation imploded under the weight of its own wilful ignorance, he had seen no one.  
Most corporate head offices do not have containments cells. Or at least legal ones are probably not supposed to. In the United States, at least, or so Loki assumed.

  
Then again, very few corporate head offices are also the headquarters of a quasi-military, multinational team of assassins, murder-armour clad mega soldiers, and glandular cases gone wrong. Avengers Tower spread its shadow protectively over the city of New York, and its glamour over whatever Tony Stark was currently up to. Which was contrary, Loki thought, to what most of his admirers probably thought he was doing.

  
Loki ought to know, the conventional services side of Magnussen Consulting was paid a hefty fee by Stark Industries to help them figure out how to spin that having the Avengers and their R&D Department in the same building was not only legal, but moral, shiny, decent, good for America, in fact good for the world.

  
Not that he planned to mention that. Nora would be able to live comfortably on the proceeds from the non-magical part of the consultancy for the rest of her life. Actually, based on her modest wants she would be able to live any number of lifetimes on it.  
But, back to his original assumption about the containment cell he was in. It should not exist and yet here he was within it, deep in the heart of Avengers Tower.

  
It was quite a nice cell, actually. Loki had a great many to compare it to. it was not as large and airy as the one on the helicarrier. Or as nicely appointed as the one he had on Asgard. But it had its charms. The chair he was shackled to was quite comfortable, for instance. And the magical wards that Stark had acquired from somewhere were of very high quality, they did not give off that headache inducing buzzing noise that was common with inferior spellcraft.

  
There was little doubt that the more conventional security measures were just as impressive.

  
Loki did not have the heart to tell either Stark or the good Captain Rogers that they were rather wasted on him, as yet again he had only been captured by them because he wished it so. But then, they were not utterly thick, so they would probably figure it out at some point.

  
Or Romonov would and they would just take credit for it.

  
Finally, late in the evening of the second day, Stark and Loki’s good friend Barton dropped by for a chat.

  
Loki gave Stark a quick up and down, “Business woes, Tony? I mean I knew the economy was iffy, but when you’re buying off the rack…. “

  
Stark pulled up a chair, Italian design, probably cost as much as most people’s automobiles, “Cute,” then he eyed Loki, “Gucci?”

  
“I think they’re about to make a comeback. I prefer to be ahead of the trend.”

  
Clint looked back and forth between the two of them from where he perched by the door, clearly not understanding a word. Then again the man’s style was Target meets the Bass Pro Shop, so it wasn’t surprising.

  
Loki could feel the acidic hate coming from Barton. He could not blame him, he had turned the man’s own hopes and talents against his friends, banished his free will, and rifled through his secrets as if they were a cheap magazine left behind in a bus station. Part of him wanted to shrug - after all, Barton had chosen his line of work and his employers so if bad had come to him it was simply part of the price he had chosen to pay. But another part of him wanted to apologize, for all of the good it would do.  
Maybe Loki owed Barton an Edible Arrangement. One of the large ones, with extra chocolate-dipped strawberries. He could share it with that wife and children that his friends did not know he was hiding in some idyllic rural area that he secretly found tedious in the extreme.

  
“I must admit I was feeling a bit put out that you were all too busy to visit an old friend. So many new enemies to face, now that Hydra has reared its unsightly head - pardon, heads - that you just don’t have time to reminisce before I am returned to Asgard. Sadly, since I am certain it is off to the Isle of Silence for me, this might be our last chance to chat for some time.”

  
“You aren’t going anywhere for a while, Ferdinand. We want to know why you’re here, who you might be with, how long it’s been going on, where your scepter is, and the name of your tailor. You can start with that last one first.”

  
Loki tried to cross his arms and failed. Idiotic shackles were never long enough. Instead he just leaned back in his seat, smiling, “I am not so certain that Thor would agree with your desire to keep me in this lovely dungeon. Contrary to certain internet wags, we don’t have that kind of relationship.”

  
“Let’s start with that question, then,” Barton said, his voice sounding rough. “Where is your brother? We haven’t been able to locate Thor for several days now. That wouldn’t have anything to do with your sudden reappearance, would it?”  
Clint rather sounded like he wished it would.

  
“Much as I love taking credit when it’s not my due, so much easier than actually doing the work, I have no idea where that lumbering twit is keeping himself these days. Perhaps daddy called him home to give him a puppy or increase his allowance because he’s been SUCH a good boy lately. Who can say?”

  
While trying to sound relaxed to the point of boredom, Loki had a suspicion of where Thor might be, actually.

 

Nora looked at the snacks laid out in the living room and worried she had overdone it.

  
Servuga caviar. Two kinds of smoked salmon. Crab beignets. Packzis. Twenty different kinds of cookies. Four cakes. Teacups full of gumbo. A platter of pork chop sandwiches. A tureen of eggrolls. Several pizzas. Some unspeakably nasty looking Scandinavian food, and some rather lovely looking pastries. And on and on. Everything she could think of a few more choices that Mrs. Beekman had come up with.  
It was pretty excessive. And that didn’t even cover the bar.

  
Then again, as Loki always said was his motto, which he swore Mick Jagger had stolen, anything worth doing is worth overdoing. And if this was the last time she would be seeing her friends she wanted to to be special. Coming up with the menu had been a welcome distraction.

  
Besides, she had fuck-everyone-raise-the-dead-and-fuck-them-too-money now. Why not spend it on people who were probably about to reject you?

  
Charles appeared at her side, holding a silver tray with a neat whisky on it. “Your special guest asked it he can have some of the surströmming. He can smell it all of the way in the guest room.”

  
Nora took the whisky and drank it more quickly deserved. “They can probably smell it in Sweden. You can take him the whole tray. We’ll probably have to fumigate this whole place after having it in the building, anyway.”

  
He gave her a neat nod and left with the offending tray of food, a look of subtle horror on his face. Considering what Nora had come to suspect was Charles favorite thing to eat, it was pretty damning.

  
Kelsey had arrived earlier and had begun doing a security sweep of the building from the garage up. She could clearly tell something was off, since she was dressed in a plain black dress, flat shoes, and had her hair pulled up and out of the way. After she was convinced that nothing was overtly wrong she positioned herself to Nora’s left and refused to shift for the rest of the day.

  
“Kels, it’s fine, everything’s fine, relax,” Nora lied.

  
The normally bubbly blonde just gave her a serious look and quick shake of the head, “Sorry, Nora, but if anything happens to you he’ll do something terrible to me. I’d rather be wrong that risk it.”

  
Nora sighed and ate a cookie. Kelsey would know soon enough that she wasn’t in any danger from Magnus now.

  
The guests started rolling in around three. Marissa and Dre arrived first, fresh from their honeymoon, her golden skin practically cocoa, his smile huge.

  
“I know you’ll probably go somewhere nobody normal’s ever heard of for your honeymoon. Like some place that only the crazy rich are allowed or they shoot your ass, but Jamaica was the shit,” Marissa said, giving her a big hug and stack of cds she had bought from different musicians they had heard playing on the beach and in the streets.

  
Dre also gave her a huge hug, lifting her off the ground, “Hey, Nor, where’s Magn- oooh, prawns!”

  
Her godmother, Frederique the Hive Queen of the North Shore (“Just call me Freddie!” She sang out to everyone she met, clearly delighted to be amongst the canaille for the afternoon) swept in trailing clouds of 24 Faubourg by Hermes, the silk scarf that killed Isadora Duncan, and her newest lover, a tattoo artist named Chloe who looked exhausted and starving, but had a blissfully idiotic smile on her face.

  
“Don’t worry, my darling,” Frederique said as she air-kissed Nora’s cheeks, “she’s entirely too enthralled to know what’s going on around her, and I absolutely promise not drain her too dry before I put her back where I found her… “

  
“Freddie….” Nora was pretty certain that was a lie.

  
“I pro-mise! In fact, Chloe, Chloe, go eat some tuna tartare, you need the protein, sweetheart. There, see, I’m taking good care of her.”

  
Nora shook her head. There were some monsters you couldn’t reform.

  
By four all of her guests had arrived. Loretta and Mr. Choe were still going strong, in spite of her son’s continued campaign against it. Ashley was excited to have found a babysitter. AJ and CiCi’s plane had arrived late, but Nora had sent Nigel to pick them up and they were both so astonished by the 999 and the penthouse that the normally chatty women just grabbed martinis and walked around gawking. Phil had pictures of his grandkids. Mrs. Beekman was embarrassed to be out of the kitchen when there were guests.

  
Charles was silent and stood by the door. When everyone had had there time to eat and get a drink and mingle a bit, he and Nora exchanged a silent glance and he ushered the two servers and the bartender from the room so calmly no one noticed that they had gone.

  
“Um, hey, everyone, if I could have a minute,” Nora said, trying to beat down the terror in her stomach and ignore the cold flop sweat rolling down her back. It had been decades since she had been nervous before a crowd, Claire had seen to that, but this was different.

  
“Where’s the groom, honey?” CiCi called out, having finally gotten over her sticker shock at Nora’s new digs.

  
“Yeah,’ said Dre around a mouthful of strawberry shortcake.

  
“He get cold feet?” Asked Mr. Choe, followed by a yelp as Loretta swatted his arm, “Watch it, babe, you know i’m fragile.”

  
“I’m - That is to say, no, no he hasn’t gotten cold feet. Exactly. But he’s not here. Um, he won’t be here any longer-”

  
“What the fuck?!” Marissa roared like a she-bear, “I will kill that motherfucker!”

  
“No! I mean, he didn’t, we didn’t break up. But, it’s more like he’s going to be deported,” Nora tried to placate her angry friend.

  
Every word she had prepared ahead of time were gone from Nora’s head. Most of them hadn’t been good words anyway. How exactly was she supposed to explain something as utterly insane as her life over the past year?

  
“Do not worry, my darling!” Frederique said while feeding crab beignets to Chloe, “My lawyers are excellent. They tried to deport me in the 20s but I am still here!”

  
Dre came over and put a hand on Nora’s shoulder, “Yeah, you can go to - wait, what?” Freddie favored him with a winning smile.

  
“The depress, darling, the depression and suddenly it was America for Americans and all types of other silliness. I rode it out, but I have always been certain to have very expensive representation ever since.”  
Now everyone but Kelsey, Mrs. Beekman, and Charles were staring at open mouthed at the elegant madwoman.

  
Nora tried again.

  
“Sort of deported. But it isn’t the kind of thing I think a lawyer is going to be very helpful with. Probably. He’s. That is to say. Magnus. Well, he’s not really who you all think he is. Except for Charles. Charles knows. He’s someone different, really different-” Now everyone was looking at the less elegant madwoman.

  
“Fuck it. Thor!” She called out.

  
The door to the guest room slammed open and the God of Thunder, casually dressed in a pair of jeans and a White Sox t-shirt, strode out, his broad shoulders nearly brushing the narrow hallway of the old building. “Mistress Nora, have you explained how my brother and your affianced are one and the same man?”

  
The only sound in the room was a burbling hiss of the champagne Ashley had been pouring herself bubbling over, and Chloe chewing.

 

Things went…

  
Well, they went.

  
Nora let Thor tell the story because he could. The same ridiculousness and dread that tied up her tongue had no effect on him. Partially because he had nothing to be afraid of and partially because he didn’t seem to know it was ridiculous.  
She filled in relevant details from time to time, but for the most part Nora sat and drank more whisky and watched her friends.

  
It came as no surprise that Marissa was the first one to say anything. Or explode. “That MOTHERFUCKER! He did something to her, he did something to you. Some magic or shit! I’ll kill his skinny ass!”

  
“No he didn’t. Marissa, he didn’t. I just, I couldn’t be the one to send anyone to a place like they were going to send him. And then… you all knew him!” Nora stood up now, gesturing around the room, “You knew Eddie, you know Magnus, which means you know Loki! That was him! The guy who used to bring cookies to the breakroom all of the time and pulled all of that shit on Thing Two from HR for me. The one who made sure you all got those settlements from Roxxon. Who made sure you could go home to see your family in England and to Brazil for your tournaments. Who bought all of the drinks. Who helped you when your sister tried to stage a coup in Winnetka. Who … who you all thought was good for me. That’s Loki, just as much as the rest of it. More than the rest of it.”

  
CiCi and AJ both shook their heads, “Good dick can even make smart women crazy,” CiCi muttered, crossing to the bar.

  
Loretta looked horrified. As did almost everyone else.

  
There were a few exceptions. Frederique had a look that said that now a few things made more sense to her. Mrs. Beekman crossed her strong arms, her eyes thoughtful but not angry. Mr. Choe got up and got himself some more pork chops and a beer.

  
Kelsey shrugged.

  
“Anyway, I know that all of you saw the news from New York about him,” Nora straightened up, and looked everyone in the eye, “About Loki. He turned himself in, in the most spectacularly boneheaded way possible, in an equally boneheaded attempt to protect me from whoever came at him last week. Left, without a word, just a nice voice mail telling me that he loves me and that this is for the best and other man-garbage.”

  
She sagged on to the couch next to AJ, “He’s not even entirely a man, or at least not all of the same time and I still have to put up with him doing things for my own good, can you believe it?”

  
“They’re all the same, honey,” AJ put an arm around her shoulders.

  
“Mistress Nora, my brother is somewhat older than you and perhaps that is why-”

  
“ALL the same, even the big pretty ones,” AJ said.

  
“Especially them,” CiCi agreed.

  
“Anyway, I am planning on going to New York, too. To see him.”

  
Now Loretta, who had served for decades, stood up, “You are going to break that son of a bitch out? Do you know how many good people, soldiers, police, civilians, he killed!”

  
Nora stood back up and crossed her, “Yes, I do. And I’m not breaking him out. I’m just… I wanted to say good bye. I’m could to be dead, maybe centuries dead, before he sees the light of day again and I want him to know that someone loved him enough to do something truly stupid for him.”

  
Now everyone, everyone but Charles and Thor, went crazy, shouting at her, arguing her down. It went on for until Nora thought she was going to scream.

  
Then she heard a quiet voice under all of the others, “You need a hand?” Mr. Choe said from where he was weathering the storm by the food.

  
“What?” Loretta was outraged, “You old fool, you aren’t-”

  
He put up a thin, wrinkled hand and gave his girlfriend a sour look, “I lived through the konanŭi haenggun, I saw people eat their own family members, over a million people died and I went to a gulag, all of it because of politics,” he spat the last word. “So my idea about what’s evil is very different than the rest of yours. Eddie was a fuck up, but he was a decent neighbor. Magnus always looked after all of us, even if it was just because Nora told him to.”

  
He sat down, pulling up his pant legs as he did and giving an old man sigh, “Plus, I can’t say I’m that surprised. I did see Sif and those other guys at Eddie’s place the day he ‘died.’ So that was weird. And what the hell, I’m bored. So sign me up for whatever stupid plan you have, sexy librarian.”

  
Mrs. Beekman cracked her knuckles, “We’ll be wanting tea, if we are planning a caper then,” and motioned for Charles to come assist her.

  
The New Orleans contingent had a silent conference and then nodded. “I’ve never been to New York. As long as we have time for a run to the Met and some shopping on your dime, we’re down. I need another drink.” Cici said, pouring.

  
The Hive Queen preened a bit, “I soooo hate the Hive Queen of Brooklyn. She was a terrible shrew when we were growing up in the swarm. I would love to pull some naughtiness in her patch, just to see the look on her botoxed face.”

  
Kelsey relaxed, “Thank god! Knew something was up! I hate the not knowing, you know? So do you have any ideas or is this just going to be brainstorming?”

  
Slowly, one by one, all of Nora’s friends seemed to reconsider their strong, anti-Loki stance, offering their services. In the end only Loretta and Marissa were silent.

  
Finally, after a firm shoulder bump from Dre, Marissa threw up her hands, “Fine. Fine! You know I’m not letting you do this without your best girl. But I’m still punching bad boy in the dick when I see his ass.”

  
“Loretta-” Nora started.

  
The retired lieutenant sighed, “I’m not happy about any of this. But a team is a team, combat unit or customer service, and I haven’t let any team I’ve been a part of down yet, so I won’t be starting now. But we are going to have a dick punching line for your boyfriend.”

  
“I’m sure he would understand.”

  
“Hey, not to stop the excitement and all, but can’t the god there just sweep you right into the Tower,” Mr. Choe asked.

  
“No. Not if he wants to stay an Avenger. Thor’s going to have a hard enough time lying to the rest of them about not knowing about Loki.”

  
“Mistress Nora, I may not have my brother’s talent for trickery, but I am perfectly capable of a little deception in a good cause,” Thor sounded slightly hurt at being cut out of the plan.

  
“I am absolutely sure that isn’t true. Anyway, I refuse to put your status as an Avenger in any danger. The earth needs you too much.” Nora patted Thor’s slumped shoulders, “Besides, your job is when he gets home. I expect you to use that deception, and everything else you have to keep your father from sending him to the Isle of Silence. I’m counting on you.”

  
“I swear to you, mistress, Loki will never see that curse’d place, no matter the cost,” he took both of her hands in one of his giant mitts, his blue eyes earnest.

  
“Thank you.”

  
“I am happy that you have such valiant, and, um, unusual allies,” he said, looking a little worried at the mix of office workers, retirees, monsters, barflies, and Kelsey.

  
‘And I’m glad I have a cousin who is a world class hacker with a flexible sense of morality and time on her hands,’ Nora thought.

  
Mrs. Beekman and Charles returned with the tea.

  
“Alright, so, here we go,” Nora said.


	29. If we’re in each other’s dreams, we can be together all the time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The author indulges herself before getting on with it

Loki had never been empathetic enough to be a skilled dreamwalker.  
Frigga had struggled for over two hundred years to teach him. She had been constantly flummoxed as to why he could not master it, gifted as he was. He had taken easily to world walking, finding hidden doorways, following the faintest paths, everything that was essential to that art. Yet time and again, when his mother invited him to do something as simple as walk with her in her own dreams Loki found himself moving as if through treacle whilst climbing an endless mountain.  
Finally, even Frigga had come to acknowledge what everyone else knew was true about Loki - that his intense sensitivity had at some point turned into a protective layer of self-involvement. She had shrugged and moved on, teaching him more about the illusions which he excelled at to such a degree that his favorite ones, those ever more detailed versions of himself, were able to take on substance and even some small autonomy.  
She had simply assumed that has he grew he would eventually gain that empathy that would allow him to master dreamwalking as well. But rather, Loki mused, that protective self-involvement that had shielded him from everyone’s deep regard for his brother and lack of regard for himself had ultimately turned into a brittle coating of narcissism, suffocating what little empathy he had.  
When the revelation of Odin (and Frigga’s) lie shattered that shell, things had only grown worse.  
Which was why Loki now found himself not in Nora’s dream that he had been searching for, but somewhere else entirely.  
For a moment he thought he had found his way into the past, or into one of his own dreams.  
But as he wandered around the rooms in the 999 there were clear clues that this was not HIS version it. The office only had one desk in a sleek, mid-century style that he did not care for. The art was good, but unfamiliar. There was no Charles, no Mrs. Beekman, and, thankfully, no Django. It was very specific and detailed. Not dream-like at all.  
The door to the bedroom was open and he could hear a laugh. His own, but not.  
Loki saw himself sprawled naked across the bed, the old bed, the one he had not destroyed in a fit of pique. His hair was shorter than he wore it now, just brushing his shoulders, and his body was somewhat leaner, as it had been in his earlier years. But the greatest difference was in a sense of weight, or more correctly the lack of it.  
This was a Loki that had known less suffering. Less deception. His glance was less wary, his smile broader.  
“Hurry or I shall begin without you!” The voice was the same, at least.  
“Don’t you dare. Unless I can watch!”  
Loki felt himself gulp, in spite of his lack of a body. Nora’s sweet voice called out from behind a carved wood screen that had also not been in his version of the room.  
“Then hurry. At any rate, we only have two days before we have to be back on Asgard for the signing of the new Accords with Jotunnheim, so you are wasting valuable time.”  
“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” she muttered, “I don’t really want to think about your family business right now.”  
When she stepped around it he knew it was not his Nora. She was younger and lighter of step. Her splendid hair hung to her waist and her bright eyes were untroubled. She was as lovely as daybreak, but she was not his. She did not compare.  
That said, he rather wished his Nora could be persuaded to wear something along the lines of the series of elaborate leather straps and silver o-rings that was all that covered none of the intimate areas of this Nora’s body.  
“Well?” She posed with her hands behind her neck, spinning slowly on her bare toes.  
Loki wondered if it was possible to have heart failure when one was not actually in their body.  
The version of himself on the bed was silent and unmoving.  
Nora stopped, crossing her arms, “I look stupid. I knew I shouldn’t have let you talk-”  
In a quick, coiled movement, Loki was off of the bed and across the room, “Do not be ridiculous,” he growled, ducking down, grabbing Nora around the knees and standing with her thrown over his shoulder, smacking the back of her naked thighs. “I had to remember how to breathe.”  
“Ow! Next time you are wearing this thing.” Then she started to laugh, snorting wildly and trying to stop herself.  
“That seems fair,” he tossed her onto the bed, trying not to laugh along with her so he could stay in character, “now stop covering your mouth and crawl up to the headboard,” he ordered with a mock fierceness.  
“And you!” He turned, pointed at Loki, snarling and tossing his hair, his eyes flashing briefly red, skin flushed blue, the fierceness no longer mock. “Get out!”

A quick rush of air and a cold smell of burning banished Loki from whatever near reality he had been visiting. Clearly he was still utterly shit at dreamwalking if he had actually managed to stroll from the dream realm into an alternate timeline without realizing it. He had hoped that it being Nora’s dreams he was trying to visit would make the way easier for him.  
The knowledge that at least in one other life he was with her was delightful. That they were clearly happy. Obviously in love. That they were playful and wild and apparently had some close connection to his family as well.  
The business with Jotunnheim gave him pause, as did the implications of the graceful ease with which he shown the other him had shown his true nature. Unthinkingly, his steps slowed and stopped, and in his distraction, Loki found himself swept away on another current of time.

“Stop. Please…” Nora’s voice was a husky wail.  
Loki ran down the hallway of his chambers in Asgard, virtually identical to the ones he had left behind, her distress erasing any other concern.  
“Ah, pet, your mouth tells me one thing, but your cunt is far more eloquent and honest. It is positively weeping for my attentions. The rest of you is equally needy.”  
There was a hateful coldness and amusement in that voice he recognised, and it terrified him to hear it directed towards Nora.  
They were not in the bedchamber, but in the receiving room, where a young maid Loki did not recognise was listening at the door. He could not understand why she bothered, since they were loud enough to be heard throughout the palace. Or would be, if this version of himself had been foolish enough to not sound proof his rooms.  
The little maid jumped a mile when the door opened and closed seemingly on its own as he let himself in.  
The room was vast and ridiculous, and Loki blushed at the memory if its existence. A mini-court for himself, complete with a throne upon a dias. How childish and conceited. To create a theatre for the drama of he performed for himself alone.  
“Uuuuhhhhh,” Nora’s moan undulated across the room, calling him.  
They were on the throne, as should be no surprise.  
Nora was naked, her poor body as thin and tired as he had seen it. His other self was hollow-eyed, his thin mouth twisted in a bitter sneer, dressed in his most elaborate court garb and helm. She was impaled upon his cock, her legs helpless dangling over the gilded arms of throne, her hands trying to find purchase anywhere as her lover, if he could be called that, idly toyed with clit and purred poison in her ear.  
“I like you better from this angle, princess. All avenues of import open to my touch, no need to kiss. If I did not enjoy lapping at your cunt and your anus so much I might never need put my mouth on you again.”  
From where he stood, Loki could see the misery in his doppelganger's eyes. He was playing some terrible game with their treasured girl, and even as he won he lost.  
“Good,” Nora hissed back at him, and then hissed again as he stroked her harder, “kissing you is like biting aluminum,” she moaned.  
With a harsh laugh he jerked her back with his free hand so she fell into the crook of his arm, her face close to his.  
“Liar…” he grabbed her face and forced her mouth to his, kissing them both into an orgasm.  
Afterwards, Nora wrapped her robe that had fallen to floor around her shoulders and left the room, her face expressionless.  
On his absurd chair, when the door clicked closed behind her, Loki slumped forward pulling his helm off and tossing it across the room. He ran his hands over and over through his hair.  
“Did you enjoy the show? If you were truly here I would gouge your eyes from your head to see my Nora so exposed,” he tried to sound enraged, but sorrow choked his voice.  
Loki turned and left the room, grabbing at what he hoped were the dream-paths to get him away from this nightmare.

Loki’s last, brief view of another world before he finally found the road he needed took him back to Midgard, but one virtually unrecognisable.  
He was in an ancient stone castle on a great balcony. The redoubt had long ago been carved from the side of a mountain, and as far as he could see there were only more ice and snow covered peaks.  
A figure draped in a great cape and hood stood on the farthest point of the gallery.  
“Your Majesty.”  
Nora walked out onto the balcony, wrapped in a rich brown velvet cloak lined with fur. She was heartbreakingly young, little more than twenty.  
She waited for the other figure - Loki had a good guess as to who it was - to answer her. When he remained silent she took a few steps more.  
“Your Majesty, you know the others do not speak for you… please, may I approach you?”  
There were more quiet moments, and taking silence for consent, Nora crossed the rest of the distance, “Even if they did, I could not blame you,” her voice was very soft.  
“They do not. They are fools.”  
Loki knew his voice, but his accent was strange, not unlike an Asgardian one, but with a deeper rumble, a more gutteral music.  
“You are exquisite to me, my tiny queen. Fascinating. Lovely,” he moved closer to her as he spoke. The figure was much taller than Nora, taller even than Loki.  
“No. It is kind of you to say so, but I know you cannot mean it,” she reached up and pushed the deep hood from his head. “I know that one as beautiful as you might not understand, but I don’t mind that I am not pretty,” she gently touching his throat with her fingertips, tracing the swirls of the caste marks on his cerulean flesh, then touched his cheek, up the sweep of his hairline to lightly brush the elegant curve of one of his horns and then the other. “As long as you are not unhappy with me-”  
“Shhhh….” he whispered, taking her in his arms, holding her to his heart.  
Loki felt himself jerk back in shock. His Jotunn self met his eyes over Nora’s bowed head, nodding once.  
“The road you seek is back where you started,” he rumbled to him, “if you can manage to not be distracted by your own reflections.”  
Loki knew when he had been dismissed.

His Nora waited for him on the roof of their building. She leaned over the side and looked to the great darkness of the lake at night, her back to the golden lights of the Chicago. She wore a black dress with a great green velvet bow tied at the back, and a pair of dangerously high heels.  
The air in her dream smelled not of the city, but of cold air in the forests, apples, and the faintest bit of cigarette smoke for comfort.  
“Nora.”  
She turned, “I drank all of the rest of that ice wine and scattered datura and jasmine in our bed and slept in the shirt you wore the night before you left me. I was goddamned if I was going to be alone on our anniversary, even if all I could do was dream about you tonight.”  
He prowled towards her, taking his time, taking her in. His Nora. “Has it really only been a year? Because when I try to remember a time before you it rather blurs.”  
“You appeared in my new employee orientation,” she stepped slowly towards him as well, crossing one foot in front of the other, “sweaty and rumpled and sounding like a bachelor farmer. I didn’t stand a chance.”  
“No. Apparently neither of us did.”  
They stood close, just inches apart, but did not touch, as if afraid.  
“I’m so angry with you I could toss you off of this roof,” her voice was sweet and soft, her lips close enough for him to feel their warmth.  
“I know. Kiss me instead.”  
“Yessss…”  
She stood on her toes and pressed her mouth up to his, and he wrapped his arms around her, and she wrapped her fists in his hair, and they moaned together.  
Loki felt something touch him in the real world.  
No!  
“You’re waking up, aren’t you?” She pulled his hair harder, as if she could make reality bend to her and she could keep them together.  
If anyone could do it….  
He kissed her again, a hard kiss, one to imprint, one that he would still feel when he woke, no finesse or style, but hard clicking teeth and tangled tongues and dripping lips.  
“Hey!” Someone was shaking him. Did they not know how shaken he already was?  
“I am going,” he sounded desperate to his own ears.  
Nora covered his mouth and jaw with kisses, “I’m coming to you. This isn’t over.”  
“Wha-”  
Romanov was looking down at Loki, her hand still on his shoulder, her eyebrow raised.  
“Are you crying?”  
“Unhand me, comrade. Even gods have allergies.”  
“Fine. Breakfast time, and then we talk,” she said, turning to leave.  
Loki was trying to sort himself out, when she looked back at him, “Who’s your treasure? You seem to have … actual feelings for whoever it is,” she sounded thoughtful.  
“Who do you think? My tailor. Now if you’ll excuse me those Cheerios are not going to eat themselves.”


	30. You Can Get Further With a Kind Word and a Hacker Than You Can With Just a Kind Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora's Team does their thing. Loki hates jailhouse food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks for to the wonderful Hurricanerin. I told you it was a good band name.

Now -  
The security guards working the dock of Avengers Tower were all enormous, with unkind faces, and exuded that warm of welcome most often associated with DMV clerks and airline check-in counter workers. Add to that the large number of deliveries and new bodies needing to be approved whenever Mr. Stark chose to throw a party - which was often - and they were a very unhappy group of puppies indeed.

  
The least happy being Steve “no-not-that-Steve” Ardmore, who was trying to check in the band.

  
“It’s ‘Quadruped,’ man. Not ‘Quadrupeds.’ And no ‘the’. Makeshift. Quadruped. Seriously,” said the band’s manager, a handsome young man who had clearly modeled his look on Donald Glover, right down to the expensive glasses, short twist-out hair, and slight scruff.

  
“That’s fine, sir-”

  
“Well...ington,” he said with a weird stutter.

  
“What?”

  
“Well...ington,” there it was again. “My name. I should be on the list,” he craned his head over the top of the tablet that Steve was checking. “There!”

  
On a sub-list under the band incorrectly written down as The Makeshift Quadrupeds, was listed their manager - Well In.gton

  
Jesus wept, Steve thought, wondering if the other guards could actually hear the sound of his eyes rolling. First the band members all rolled in at different times, only the drummer having shown up when she was supposed to. Of course then she had plopped down on the floor in line so everyone else he was checking in had to step around her while she played Epic Beard 2 on her phone. The rest of the unrelentingly too hip for Manhattan group all finally managed to materialise only an hour later than they were expected.

  
The manager being the last to arrive.

  
Why couldn’t he be working with the florists? Signing in the catering staff?

  
“Ok, fine, everyone just take out your IDs and line up and we can get you out of here,” he said, gesturing in a way that he hoped signified make a line.

  
Vandie Liston was the drummer, a pretty girl with a southern accent and black bangs, swaddled in a huge fake fur. She at least smiled at him.

  
The bass player was the sullen, pink-haired Latina who had kept trying to jump the line. Xochitl Ramirez.

  
The guitar player was a (Steve wasn’t above thinking) absolutely banging hot slightly, older African American woman named Delphine Sinclair. She gave him a flirty smile which earned them both a dirty look from the drummer.

  
“Sorry,” the last woman said, trying to keep talking on the phone while finally pulling her ID, and drinking a huge coffee. Claire Rasmussen, the singer.  
That was the last of them, thank god.

  
“Ok, your equipment -”

  
“Instruments,” Ms. Ramirez corrected irritably.

  
“Your instruments! Fine. Anyway, they are up on 27, where the party is. These passes allow you free access to that floor, 26 where there are changing rooms set up for you, and these,” he handed them each a list and a map, “select other locations. You are not authorized to go anywhere else.”

  
They all looked at the papers, bored and ready to move on.

  
“Is there anywhere I can smoke?” Ms. Rasmussen asked, smiling and waving a pack of Winstons.

  
“No. In fact those are not allowed in the building.”

  
“I wouldn’t-”

  
“You can leave them here and pick them up when you leave,” he said, putting out his hand.

  
She frowned at him, opened the pack and counted, “There are sixteen smokes in here. There better be sixteen when I get this back,” she slapped them into his hand along with an old silver Zippo. Steve tried not to roll his eyes too hard. He wondered if doing it too often could cause brain damage.

  
The manager, finally doing his job, hustled her along, leaving Steve to have a few moments of wondering is Stark’s lavish benefits package was really worth working here before going to inspect a shipment of organic kale, since the last batch had been full of bugs. The kind that Pym Technologies made.

 

Then -

  
Nora was trying to hear what her cousin Maura was saying, but it was impossible over the squabbling of her band.

  
“Hang on, coz, they’re still at it,” she sighed.

  
Maura gave that musical laugh of hers, “If I were with you, and it wasn’t for Thomas, I would be right in there with them…”

  
The fight had been going on most of the morning before their assault on Avenger’s Tower and if they didn’t sort it out now Nora was going to kill of them. Which would make her very sad and also negate most of the plan for getting into the building.

  
“- because you are my wife! Isn’t that a good enough reason?” Dre yelled at Marissa.

  
“Maybe n-” she started to yell back when Nora cut in.

  
“Stop it! Ok, I gave this a lot of thought and no, Marissa is not kissing the Falcon. Neither CiCi or AJ gets to make out with Black Widow, UNLESS she likes both of them. Dre can’t ask Iron Man for his autograph. I don’t get to dance with Hawkeye - he probably isn’t going to be there anyway. No one gets to get it on in any way with Captain America. Not even me. And no one tries anything with Thor, either. ESPECIALLY me. I didn’t have to go through this shit with Loretta and Mr. Choe. Or Kelsey.”

  
“Well, Loretta and Mr. Choe are old. And Kelsey IS a professional,” AJ said, trying to sound reasonable.

  
“No one’s so old they don’t want to bag an Avenger, sweetie,” CiCi said, patting her girlfriend’s shoulder. “And Loretta’s hot.”

  
They all nodded. Even Nora.

  
“Ok, Maura, I think we might be ready.”

  
She could hear her cousin crack her knuckles, “This is going to be so much fun,” she said in her pretty lilt, but with a decidedly evil tone, “Stark’s security system is going to be my bitch.”

  
“Why is everyone I love a villain?”

  
“The better question, darling, is why do all of the villains love you?” The elegant, cultured tones of her cousin’s apparently terrifying lover - apparently, because he had always been nothing but sweet to Nora - Thomas came on.

  
Maura started laughing again, “Here we go.”

 

Now -

  
Nora watched Marissa, a little nervous. She loved her girl, but she was the weak link in this part of the plan.

  
Frankly, her bass playing skills were sketchy at best. And her temper was worse when she was nervous. Which everyone was.

  
“Anyone here want a drink?” Asked one of the caterer’s assistants who had been asked to check on them.

  
Loretta.

  
“I’ll take a water,” Nora said. When Loretta leaned over it she whispered, “How’s it going?”

  
“I’m good. Kyung-hwan is still pissed he looks old enough to been in WWII, but he’ll get over it.”

  
It took Nora a minute to realize she was talking about Mr. Choe. Some part of her brain had just always thought his first name was Mister. “How’s that going? Do any of those vets seem suspicious?”

  
The only way they had figured out to get someone as old as Mr. Choe into Stark’s elegant celebration was to have him sneak in with a group of World War II veterans that Captain America had invited to the party.

  
“Naw, honey, they’re all so worried about sounding like old racists they are falling all over themselves being nice to him. And I gave him plenty of pointers on how to sound like he was in the shit. Now he’s being a big ham, bitching about the Japs and all.”

  
“Racist.”

  
“Preach. Gotta get back. The girl who’s in charge of the charcuterie station is lazy.”

 

On the secret, thirteenth floor -

  
Kelsey lowered herself from the ceiling, listening to Maura’s directions on her earbud. “Ok, I found it. Just as easy as you said. I wonder if his security was this bad before he moved the Avengers in here.”

  
She nodded a few times and then snorted, “You are Nora’s cousin, aren’t you? Ok, tell Thor any time he’s ready.”

 

At the party -

  
“....so then my plane went down. Luckily, there were some native fishermen in the area who picked me up, and I spent the next two months eating breadfruit and trying to get Tokyo Rose on the radio I salvaged from the wreck,” Mr. Choe finished, taking a sip of champagne.

  
Former Sergeant William “Brooklyn Billy” Cade, 82nd Airborne, decorated for bravery at the Bulge, put an age spotted and wrinkled but still firm hand on Steve Roger’s shoulder and whispered, “Do we believe any of this guy’s stories?”

  
Steve shrugged, “At this point, do we have to? He’s pretty funny.”

  
Brooklyn Billy nodded. “It’s good to see you again, Rogers.”

  
“You, too, Cade, you too.”

  
“Oooh, does anyone have one of those texting things? I told my great-granddaughter I would send her a picture from Avengers Tower,” Mr. Choe said. “Maybe with Captain America?”

  
With a snort and shake of his head, Steve pulled out his StarkPhone, the simple one he prefered and not the one that Tony had given him to use on missions, “Sure, do you have her number?”

 

In New Zealand -

  
“Yes!”

  
Maura was invigorated. Things were going beautifully. Of course, as talented as she was, it did help that Loki’s company had been a consultant to Stark, and he had used that opportunity to install a number of backdoors and secret ‘improvements’ to his rival’s computer system.

  
And that Nora’s Volunteer Army all had clean records, so they would just be able to melt back into obscurity after she deleted the temporary identities she had created for them. In fact, the only two dings that came up on any of their records was AJ’s large number of parking tickets and Mrs. Beekman’s drunk and disorderly arrest for assault at a Marc Bolan concert in Leeds in 1971.

  
Thomas’s voice came from the next room, “I feel like I should make you a warm milk, darling. What brilliant victory did you have now?”

  
“I knew that if anyone was going to have less than adequate protection set up on their phone it would be Captain Rogers. He may have a perfect ass, but at heart he’s a cranky old man.”

  
“What did you say about his ass?” Thomas said, a sinister lift to his tone.

  
“That it’s vastly overrated,” she answered meekly, and then turned back to her keyboards and screens.

 

Backstage -

  
“Are you all ready?” Dre asked, pushing his vintage glasses back up his nose, “You guys are going to be great. You killed last night at rehearsal. They aren’t going to know what hit them.”

  
“Dre, you know we aren’t a real band, and you aren’t a real manager, right?” Marissa said to her husband.

  
“Ignore her, D,” Nora said, kissing his cheek and wiping her hands. Truthfully, they were just barely adequate, but they were coasting on the fake fame as the band that the other bands were into. All of which Maura had set up online for them. Stark’s vanity, once he had seen how hard they were to book, after certain articles with certain keywords had shown up on his culture news feed, had meant he would bend over backwards to get them.  
At least they looked like a band. AJ had on a too small Steven Universe t-shirt, cut-offs, and rainbow knee-hi’s with matching sweatbands on her wrists. With her Bettie Page haircut and sweet as sugar smile she was a perfectly improbable drummer. Marissa, over complaints that no one had better even think about taking her picture, had on one of Claire’s old dresses and a pair of chucks.

  
“I look, ugh, sooo Wicker Park,” she said, picking at the rayon skirt.

  
CiCi wore mostly her perfect skin, a pair of sky high satin boots, and her currently very full natural afro. No one would probably even notice the rest of them while she was on-stage.  
Nora fiddled with the low neckline of her green party dress. She hadn’t worn it since Christmas, and the vintage velvet was even more worn - partly due to the man she was wearing it for now having mauled her the last time she had worn it.

  
“Ok, so remember, we are starting with ‘There Would be Hell to Pay,’ and not ‘How I Failed Ethics.’”

  
“Why?” Marissa asked irritably.

  
“Because you can’t dance to ‘Ethics’, at least with ‘Hell’ you can get a sexy grind going on.”

  
“Fine,” she grumbled, “but the rest of the set stays the same, damnit.”

“Ok,” Nora said, slicking her hands through her hair, “let’s do this.”

  
She stood before the mic, fist raised, “Hello Avengers! We are Makeshift Quadruped. Hit it!”

 

In the Kitchens -

  
Loretta dropped the device Kelsey had given her in the walk-in, near the back wall like she had been told.

  
It looked just like a tiny pumpkin. That made a faint humming noise that could not be heard about the ambient sounds of the coolers.

 

In Security Room C -

  
“Aw, thanks, Thor! But Mr. Stark won’t like us drinking on duty….”

  
“Then he is a hypocrite! Tonight is for celebration,” Thor said joyously thudding his fist down on a control panel.

  
While everyone jumped to make sure he hadn’t harmed any of the buttons, he quietly slid a small disc into place on another part of the board. The momentarily unobserved screens showing various high security spots around the building did not even flicker as the images subtly changed.

  
“Now! I shall pour!”

 

At The Party -

  
Nora sang :

  
_“I wanted everybody else in the world to know / I wanted everyone to know that you're the one for me / I wanted everybody else in the world to know it / (Ooh ooh ooh ooh)...”_

  
Almost everyone was dancing. A few of the WWII vets in were telling stories on one of the couches, and it looked like Black Widow was bartending. Which was a huge relief. She was the one of the Avengers that both Maura and Kelsey had been most concerned with fucking things up for them tonight.

  
“Ok, this is one of my favorites. Reminds me of that special boy of mine,” she said with a wink.

  
CiCi mouthed, “You crazy bitch,” at her and then laughed.

  
Nora got everyone to sing the chorus :

  
_So if you don't want a wild one / Quit hanging around with me / You knew right from the start that's my personality / If you can't handle crazy, go ahead and leave / If you don't want a wild one / Quit hanging around with me_

  
Tony Stark seemed to especially like that one.

  
He requested an encore _._

 

In a cell on the secret thirteenth floor -

  
Loki was trying to meditate and failing at it. When the door to his cell glided open, letting in a bit of slightly fresher air, he did not bother to open his eyes.

  
It was no doubt his dinner. It amused Stark to feed him poorly, and like he was a five-year-old child. Last night had been Spaghetti-Os with sliced hot dogs and a generic soft drink that was simply designated as Red Cola.  
Still, it had been better than the “healthy” meal the night before that, of whole wheat pasta and soy cheese. Loki was fairly certain that he could have a case before the Hague for that kind of treatment. Whole wheat pasta?  
And they thought he was the monster.

  
“Just place it on the table, if you would,” he asked, not opening his eyes. “Or better still, simply take it straight to the trash receptacle and save us both some time.”

  
“If you feel that way, I will drink it all myself.”

  
Loki was on his feet and trying to decide his next move in a moment.

  
Thor, meanwhile, was sitting at the small metal table that was bolted in the middle of the cell, pouring two tumblers of whisky. Redbreast 12 Year. Nora’s drink of choice. “Apologies for not visiting earlier, brother. I had to establish a ‘cover’ that I did not know of your residence on Midgard before I was even supposed to know you were here.”

  
He held out a glass. Loki took it and sat across from him. “What do you want? Did someone kill Odin this time and you need me to help you get vengeance?”

  
“Would you deny me your help, were that the case?” Thor asked.

  
“Of course not. If I would get free of Stark and Romanov’s company I would gleefully help you avenge, ahem, anyone’s death. Even Volstagg. Although as his demise will no doubt be at the hand of a side of mutton and a hogshead of wine, I am not sure how that would work.”

  
“Odin is well, as far as I know. I have not been home in some time. I just thought to have a drink with my little brother. And maybe listen to some music.”

  
Thor pulled out a small controller which he aimed towards a speaker above the door. There was a lot of applause and a few hoots, and then, oh then -

  
Nora’s voice, laughing, “Ok, ok, thanks! Alright, one more song, and then we are going to take a pause and eat some of Tony’s expensive food and have a few of those good looking drinks. Ladies, let’s go -”  
Some country sounding music started, with a bending guitar note, and then Nora sang,

  
_“We deserve a happy ending / It’s been real since the beginning / Even when we’re losing it feels like we are winning / we deserve a happy ending….”_

  
Loki’s heart raced. His breath came out in desperate puffs. “She’s here. You let her come here! I swear to you Thor, and know I mean it more than I ever did in the past, if she comes to any harm-”

  
“You’ll kill me?” his brother asked, with a bit of laugh, rolling his eyes and taking a drink, a broad smile on his face.

  
“I’ll kill everyone.”

  
Thor patted his hand, “Of course you will.”

  
_“When I met you it made me / I didn’t know it but it saved me…”_

  
_“_ Yes, she is here. And if you think I could have kept her away with anything other than a great deal of force you clearly don’t know your own mistress very well.”

  
“Everybody now,” she called out, _“We deserve a happy ending / it’s been real since the beginning…_.”

  
Loki could actually make out the voices of various and sundry of the Avengers and their squads and minions unwittingly helping Nora serenade him.

  
Thor laughed louder, “She is as mad as you are.”

 

Backstage -

  
Nora called out over her shoulder, “Ok, I’m going for a smoke. Save me some of those tiny gyros. I love that little food.”

  
Once she was out of sight in the hallway, Nora slipped out of her heels and started to run, following Kelsey’s voice in her ear.

  
“Right, and then close along the wall, good, I can see you, and then go in that door…”

  
Eventually she was at set of elevators, “Take the middle one.”

  
Her voice was serious, the trixie accent gone.

  
When the elevator stopped at her floor Nora pretty much threw herself into it, “You don’t have to be so dramatic, Nor. Your cousin is good. No one can see you.” The doors closed automatically.

  
“Easy for you to say. AND her. I don’t do these things. I’m in customer service, not espionage,” she hissed at her disembodied body guard.

  
“The elevator is automatically going to take you to thirteen. You will have twenty minutes.”

  
Twenty minutes. She was risking all of her friends for twenty minutes.

  
She put her shoes back on.

 

At a fundraiser across town -

  
“Pepper!” A merry, French accented voice cut through the crowd.

  
The tall blonde turned on her heel, smiling, “Yes?” while her companion reached into his jacket.

  
Behind them was a very expensively and conservatively dressed woman of a certain age, who looked like Catherine Deneuve's more lovely sister.

  
“Frederique Du Maine. We met a Cannes two years ago. We were going to connect about co-chairing a student film contest in Africa?”

  
“Of course!” They exchanged air kisses.

  
“Where is that bad man of yours tonight?” She asked after she had, as if by magic (or simply very powerful pheromones) persuaded the head of Stark Industries to join her in another room for a quiet drink and a little girl talk.  
Pepper blushed, “We’re on a bit of a break, to be honest.”

  
“How sad. For him, obviously. Tell me all about it.”

  
While Ms. Potts poured her heart out to her new, good friend, the Hive Queen quietly sent a pre-prepared text to Kelsey and Maura, letting them know that their insurance policy had been secured.

 

At the party -

  
“Damn, these are delicious,” Dre said as he ate another tiny gyro.

  
Marissa, AJ, CiCi, and Mr. Choe, who had introduced himself to them as Mr. Cho and complimented them on the show when they met up at the buffet, all nodded.

  
“Told you,” Loretta said from behind the table before bustled off to check on the miniature coffee cakes that hadn’t come out yet, wondering how she had ended up being in charge of the whole damned catering crew.

 

In a cell on the secret thirteenth floor -

  
Before Loki could say anything to respond to Thor’s- doubtless correct- aspersions on Nora’s sanity, his brother put up a finger, “One thing you should know about this … auditory treat. It is on a slight delay.”

  
Loki cocked his head like a confused dog.

  
There was a soft knock on the cell door.

  
Thor stood, stretching, “I was just leaving, so I shall answer it for you.”

  
Loki could not make himself look. He heard Thor’s few, heavy steps, the sliding open of an electric door, two delicate, almost inaudible clicks of high heeled shoes, and the door closing.

  
“You should not have come,” he said to the floor, sick with dread.

  
She spoke, and the sound of it so close made his heart ache.

  
“To quote my favorite modern philosopher, ‘I do what I want.’”


	31. So, I Guess You’re Just Not That Into Us?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best plan will fall apart, let alone this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, the formatting is weird.

In an undisclosed location in New Zealand -

Maura looked at her screens and frowned.

“Thomas? What does this look like to you?”

With a soft grumble, her graceful lover uncoiled himself from where he sitting, reading the financials. “You know that most of your hacking is just gibberish me,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and leaning over her.

He smelled very good.

Maura shook her head hard to get back in the game and pointed at the screen, “This isn’t hacker stuff. This is text from under what sounds like an otherwise normal phone conversation going on in the Tower. It’s encoded and it looks like -”

  
“-Hydra,” he finished with a nod. “Get them out of there.”

 

In a basically forgotten electronics room in Avengers Tower -

  
Kelsey took the small flashlight from between her teeth and answered Maura’s hail.

  
“I’m almost finished with the- What? Shit. Ok, yeah, but Nora’s still in with him and it’s a dead zone. Let Thor know, I’ll take care of everyone else. FUCK!”

 

In a cell on the secret thirteenth floor -

  
Nora felt like she couldn’t breathe.

  
The smart ass comment had come to her without her needing to think of it. Frankly, she had been waiting months for a chance to use it on him, but with his own verbal genius he had consciously or otherwise managed to avoid saying anything that would allow her to give that particular bit of sass back to him.

  
All of which was good, because the way she felt from the moment she entered the cell, it was far more likely that she would just be making high, keening noises just because she was again close to him.

  
Had the air around him always felt different than normal air - headier and crisper -and she had just gotten used to it? Were his legs longer? His hair certainly was. Was his voice deeper? Was his scent - that dark combination of stone, winter forests, and salted, succulent fruit - more intense and opulent because she wasn’t used to it any longer, or because he had been trapped in this small room for weeks?

  
He didn’t move. He sat at the little metal table with the bolted down legs, on one of the little stools, likewise bolted down, and refused to look at her.

  
That was ok with Nora for a little while, because she needed to reorient herself to what the world was like with Loki near.

  
But she didn’t have time for any more than that.

  
“Anyway, did you really think I wouldn’t come for you?”

  
He looked up, glaring, nostrils flared, eyes hooded like a cobra sighting vermin, “Yes,” he spat. “Or more to the point it never occurred to me you would be this much of a fool. I should have known better. You have no regard for your own safety and you never have.” He sounded disgusted with her idiocy.

  
“Maybe I’m just sick of getting engaged and then getting dumped. First Patrick cheating on me with my roommate, and kinda setting it up so they would get caught. Then you handing yourself over to the Avengers to get away from me. Seriously, you would rather get evicted from the planet than get married? I figure the next guy I say yes to is going to end up faking his own death to get away from me.”

  
She took very slow, very measured steps, one foot in front of the other as she spoke, watching him twitch slightly, waiting for the explosion.

  
Which came as soon as she started to say, “In fact, he’ll have to-”

  
She was back at the door, her toes inches from the floor, her right shoe dangling from her foot, her chest compressed by his, their eyes inches apart, “Do not think to taunt me,” he hissed.

  
Nora dug her nails into her palm to keep from actually swooning like a moron at how overwhelming he was.

  
“I’m not thinking about it. I’m doing it, you ass.”

  
They glared at each other for ten crazed, racing heartbeats, and then they were consuming each other - their arms crushing, Nora’s legs squeezing Loki’s waist, his hands engulfing her sides, as if they were trying to make themselves literally inseparable.

  
At one point he laced his fingers through the torc, pulling it lightly so he could lick beneath it, “At least you were wise enough to wear this,” he moaned against her pulse.

  
“Aunt Claire didn’t raise no fool,” she groaned back into his hair.

  
“Nora, Nora, Nora,” he crooned, incanted, prayed, “she did. How could you do this foolish thing?”

  
“I could ask you the same question. Now come on, we don’t have much time,” Nora unlocked her legs, and slid between Loki and the wall, having to grab his shirt front to keep from going all the way to the floor. She reached behind her for the knob, but his long fingers covered hers.

  
“No.”

  
“Listen, I didn’t bring everyone from Chicago, AND get Maura and Thomas to help me - she says hi by the way, he said something about ‘tell him I send the same sentiment as when last we spoke,’ - AND get your brother and Jane to help me, just to have you not get rescued.”

  
“Jane gave you assistance?” he murmured as he kissed her hair, her temple, along her cheekbone, and down towards her mouth.

  
“Yeah, she made all of the equipment that Maura needed… oh god, don’t stop…no, stop! We have to go. Outside of this room you should be able to shift back to Magnus, then we go down to the dock and go out for a cigarette. There is a-”

  
“No.”

  
He lifted her hand and kissed her palm, her wrist, down the tender skin of her arm, and sucked on the inside of her elbow.

  
“You have to,” Nora hated the whine in her voice.

  
“It is not safe for you to be with me,” he knelt and nuzzled against her velvet covered breasts.

  
“I don’t care.”

  
“I do.”

  
“What happened to you were too selfish to let me go?” She shouted, pushing away from him.

  
He let her struggle away, and then crossed his legs and sat on the floor, “That was when I thought I could hide. When I thought the only dangers I would have to shelter you from where Midgardian ones. But the attack on our home… even if the assassins were unaware of my true nature their employer was not. I am certain that it was exploratory venture. And if you had been home… “

  
“I would have died. Baba Yaga told me. It’s why she took me. She saw, she saw horrible things,” she sat next to him, leaned on him, and he wrapped his arms around her.

  
His warm embrace started to turn cold. Apparently the magic dampers on the room couldn’t effect Loki’s transforming to his natural form, even or perhaps especially when it was unconscious. “I need to go home Nora. To Asgard. I need to accept my punishment, or whatever the All-Father might have in mind for me. In return you will be safe,” he put an ice-blue finger to her lips. “I can run from Odin, and I can hide from Thanos, but I cannot do both. And I absolutely could not keep you safe as well. You must understand that I would never leave you if I thought there were another way.”

  
She turned slightly in his arms. He had not entirely shown this part of himself to her since the day he had first told her he loved her. Maybe it was a desire to physically manifest how serious, how sincere he was. His eyes looked like fire, not just embers.

  
“Oh, god, you really aren’t coming, are you? This was just for me to say goodbye. I should be screaming at you, I have so many angry things to yell into your face.”

  
“Whatever you-”

  
“Shut up. I’m not wasting our time,” she put her arms around his neck, ”which is another five minutes, so kiss me like you mean it.”

  
“As I always do.”

  
His cool lips had just brushed hers, when the door burst open.

 

Loki stood and thrust Nora behind him, one of the bolted chairs no longer bolted to the floor, but in his hand with chunks of concrete hanging from it. He just barely stopped himself when he saw it was Thor, Mjolnir in hand and a wild look on his face.

  
“We must go now, Mistress Nora. I- Brother, you look-”

  
Loki ignored that, “Is it Stark? Rogers? Tell me it is not the monster.”

  
“No, none of those. The building is overrun. Hydra agents are everywhere.”

  
Loki’s eyes narrowed, “Why? That is not their way.”

  
“Um… well,” Thor dithered for a moment, then straightened his shoulders. “We have no time for discussion. We must get Miss Walsh from the building.” He looked over Loki’s shoulder, “Fear not, your brave companions are all safe. We were warned by your cousin’s learn’d council in time. Only the one called Kelsey remains to ensure your safety.”

  
“That’s right,” came Kelsey’s voice from behind his brother’s wide shoulders, “and we need to do that. They are swarming this place like locusts. They are seriously looking for something, and - oh, hey, Boss, that’s quite a look.”

  
Loki reverted to his Asgardian form. “I don’t suppose anyone thought to bring me a dagger?”

  
Nora’s arms reached around him. In each hand she held a perfectly balanced throwing daggers with black leather wound hilts. “Here. It was Kels idea, but no one gets to hold your business but me.”

  
He eyed the snug, green cocktail dress she was wearing, “How did you-”

  
Thor interrupted again, “Flirt later, little brother. Now we must go.”

  
“For once, Thor, you are the smartest person in the room. Revel in it and lead the way.”

 

Sometime later, somewhere in Avengers’ Tower -

  
“Ok, wait, stop,” Nora gasped out, leaning on one of the pale blue walls of… whatever fucking floor they were on and toe’d off her heels. Her feet were blistered and throbbing red.

  
Loki frowned down at them, “You should have thought of more sensible footwear for a prison break,” he muttered irritably.

  
“Well, if you had agreed to being broken out they would have worked fine. Probably. What I didn’t think of was… oh I don’t know… sneaking around a Tower invasion by totalitarian world police force. For that, yes, I have the wrong shoes.”

  
Thor had left them when they had been on a lower floor, having received a message from Captain America that they needed him on the roof to get rid of some choppers that were trying to land. And Kelsey had climbed up out of the of trapdoor in the elevator to do something electronic for Maura in an attempt to block the Hydra force’s own communications.

  
“Sadly, Stark was minisculely more clever than I thought and the magical dampers are not only on my cell or I would transform those, but as I cannot,” he crouched slightly in front of her.

  
Nora crossed her arms and cocked her head, “What?”

  
He sighed, ”Climb up.”

  
Her toes kicked into his side as she sprang onto his back and dug in, and she wrapped his braids firmly around her hands, “Giddy-up.”

  
With a snort, Loki started to lope down the hallway towards a hidden stairway inside of one of the offices that Maura thought would lead them to a secure space on the ninth floor. “I know a transmogrification spell that would allow us to really play horsey, if I could be certain I could turn you back. Alas, were there world enough and time…”

 

In a rented van on a side street several miles away -

  
“We should go back,” Marissa said, staring of the window into the darkness of New York. Which was really a well-lit street in a very nice neighborhood, even though the sidewalks were covered in garbage bags.

  
Disgusting.

  
“Yeah,” AJ nodded. “We shouldn’t have left Nora behind.”

  
CiCi looked at her incredulously, “I’m a math teacher, and you are a gardener. What are we supposed to do against a bunch of Nazi’s with big damned guns? Throw chalk and hostas at them?”

  
Dre shook his head, “We aren’t soldiers. There is nothing we could have done but gotten hurt. And you know Nora. She’d get herself killed trying to get US out, and then her boyfriend would lose his shit hard. They are safer with us gone.”

Mr. Choe nodded, continuing to eat the rather large appetizer sandwich he had made himself on the way out of the party. He deftly caught a deviled quail egg that squirted out the far side and offered it around to no takers.

  
Loretta piped up, “I was a soldier, and I hate to say it, but Andre is right about that. Loki will protect her. Or I will kill his ass.”

  
“I would be happy to lend my assistance should that need arise,” said a cultured, elegantly British voice in their earbuds.

  
“Thomas, be nice,” Maura said with a sigh. “And if you could all be quiet for a tick, I’m just about to find out what Hydra is doing in the Tower.”

  
There was quiet, save for some chewing for a few minutes, and then Maura’s soft voice again, “Well, fuck. This just gets better and better.”

  
“So what do they want?” Marissa asked.

 

In a secret lab in Avengers’ Tower -

  
Nora insisted on walking down the stairs on her own, the pitch of from Loki’s back making her nervous even though she knew he wouldn’t drop her. He went ahead to make certain the space was as secure as Maura had assumed. When they had entered the stairway the earbuds had cut up, this space being more tightly blocked to outside transmissions than any other area of the Tower they had been in so far.

  
As she hobbled down, she was a bit surprised that Loki hadn’t come back to check on her yet. For a second Nora felt her skin tighten and prickle. For a second she thought that her former anxiety with travelling, and her absolute dread of New York was coming back, but no.

  
The air itself seemed… charged. Heavy and full.

  
Resisting calling out to Loki, in case there was someone else that might hear, Nora entered the first part of the lab, which seemed to just be an observation space for the larger part of the glass-lined, computer-generated wonderland of arcing lights, displays, and equipment that she could not identify and was sure didn’t exist anywhere else in this world.

  
It was doing something. That was the only thing Nora could tell for certain. The numbers that seemed to scroll on the air itself were going faster and faster, as if racing each other to some conclusion.

  
It was beautiful. Confusing and intimidating, but beautiful.

  
Just like the god that was standing in the midst of the intentional chaos. His back was to her, his neatly jacketed shoulders tense. Somehow, even though his magic had been curtailed he was just immaculate as the day he had been captured. His head was down, and he seemed to be transfixed by something in his hands.

  
Nora knocked on the glass.

  
Nothing.

  
She knocked louder.

  
And louder.

  
He lifted his arms, as if to better see what he was looking at.

  
When she saw what he held, white-knuckled hard in his grip, gleaming gold and indigo, it’s wickedly sharp, curved blade glinting at her, Nora wondered if it would be appropriate to faint.

  
Neither of them should have come back. It was bad luck.

  
Her monkey-brain shouted her to run.

  
She pounded harder.

  
Finally he turned, his head cocked, his eyes empty, and strange.

  
And mostly blue.


	32. Damn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things happen. Many of them.

On the roof of Avenger’s Tower -  
The first three helicopters were easy enough to fell. A quick arc of lightning directed to the blades spinning the tail of one sent it out of control and into the path of the other two. Followed by a gust of air to push them to a safer place of crashing and it was done.

The fourth, however, was causing Thor some difficulty.

It appeared to be surrounded by a misty veil of wavering maroon energy, somewhat like the aether, but not as strong. Like the fumes that might come from it rather.

It appeared to be directed by a youngish mortal woman with very sneaky fingers. 

No blast of lightning had made it to the vehicle, but they had not been able to land either.

Thor began to spin Mjolnir. He had no time for these games, Loki and Mistress Walsh were at large with the Tower, and that could be safe for no one. Themselves included.

With a sigh that would be known to all aggrieved older siblings, he launched himself at the witch and her guards.

 

Inside Nora’s thoughts as she tried to pull open the door separating her from the secret lab somewhere between floors in Avenger’s Tower as her sweating hands are slipping on the shiny knob. All the while staring at Loki, who tracked her with his sort of now aqua-colored eyes, but who didn’t seem to actually be seeing her - 

Fuck.

Fuckity fuck fuck.

Fuckity fuck fuck motherfuck. MotherFUCKER. Fuck.

Fuck this fucking fuckery.

Double-fuck.

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKifthisgoesbaditsallmyfaultFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK.

Wipe your hands, idiot.

Damn. I really don’t want to die in New York.

In the loading dock of Avenger’s Tower -

Steve (“not that Steve”) Ardmore hunched down behind an unloaded palette of organic dinosaur kale that was taking fire for him. Apparently not only was it an excellent source of antioxidants, but it supplied a surprisingly good barrier for both bullets AND energy weapons.

It occurred to him that if the band hadn’t been so annoying and taken so long to deal with he probably would have gotten the greens sorted away to the kitchens, which meant it was not only possible but likely he wouldn’t have had any cover to take and would be dead right now.

He breathed a silent thank you to the annoying hipsters of Makeshift Quadruped, vowing to subscribe to their no doubt annoying YouTube channel, just as Steve (“yes, that Steve”) Rogers somersaulted through the air, landing on the cartons of vegetation, sending his shield and huge numbers of crushed leaves into the faces of the HYDRA troops.

 

Inside Loki’s Mind, Inside of the Mind Stone, Inside of a Secret Lab Somewhere Between Floors Inside of Avenger’s Tower -

The problem with addiction - as anyone who had ever sat in a group of semi-strangers confessing the sins they had committed to feed the very thing that fed upon them knows - is that it never really goes away. Even if you refuse to court it, to play its games, give it more gifts and time and sacrifices, it is still the possessive former lover, crouched outside of your window waiting for you to give it even a sidelong glance.

Loki had always been addicted to power. The darker the better. Even before he had found his life to be a lie and his identity to be a source of pain and revelation, he had adored it. Then Thanos had placed the Scepter in his hands, showing him how to direct that power, using it to both destroy and steal, and he had never imagined something so purely dark and dynamic could exist outside of the heart of a star.

Until he had held the Tesseract. 

And witnessed the Aether.

So when he had found what Stark was hiding, what HYDRA was attempting so desperately trying to recover, he knew that he should turn around, toss a confused and complaining Nora over his shoulder, and bolt back up the stairs as if being chased by flame. 

But what he actually did was pick it up. 

The system that Stark, and Loki guessed Banner - who was at least not an idiot - had feeding through the stone that they did not understand, started to surge in agitation. Apparently they had been doing something involving an AI that was at little more than than the fetal stage, overwhelming it with information and noise and decidedly negative ideas about civilization, and humanity as a species. Ideas that Loki remembered from his time at The Mad Titan’s Finishing School for Runaway Princes.

It seemed to at once be wildly flailing while trying to find the thing that had been tormenting it and be pleased to be rid of it at the same time.

Another born power addict.

It felt just as good Loki remembered. The lovely, smooth curve, the elegant heaviness at the head where the curve of the blade made it want to tip forward in his hand, the slight vibration and warmth. Perfect.

Almost as splendid as his actual cock.

He traced a finger across the glowing blue surface that hid the mind stone, and found himself again within it, that realm of pristine and heartless thought.

It showed him wondrous things. Hidden HYDRA strongholds full of weapons and troops ready for a proper leader to guide them. The HYDRA Council, already wounded and in need of nothing so much as a coup d’grace by someone who would be wise enough to burn the stumps they left behind so no further heads could grow. The little experiments of von Strucker, in painful need of both further education and a stern hand to show them all of their potential.

“How easy it would be,” it cooed and cajoled. “The HYDRA soldiers and agents already in the building would be so simple to take. They long for mindless obedience. Then take Black Widow. The rest of the Avengers will be hamstrung without her intelligence and adaptability. 

“She had a new influence with Banner and his monstrous twin, which will keep both Stark and the Captain busy. And Thor will see his beloved little brother, newly returned to him and would walk willingly, unknowingly into your arms.

“The Chitauri were ignorant, crude creatures, unable to plan for themselves. You will have generals now, and an army for them to lead.”

Loki smiled and stretched, “I don’t know that I am so interested in being king any longer. Humans are rather fun to observe as they are. I think they might be less amusing without all of that pesky free will.”

The stone made a noise, crystalline and slightly cracking, “But you said before, you had wanted to be a benevolent god. If you find yourself wishing the humans well then what better way to ensure that than by guiding them to a peaceful future?”

Loki gave a rueful shake of his head, “Alas, I think that Midgardians lack in the harmonious homogeneity necessary for a king, or a god, to capture all of their imaginations. It simply sounds exhausting.” 

“But you, it, they…! Never mind. Asgard! That same force on Asgard, with the knowledge that both you and your brother have of its defenses, you will take the Realm Eternal in no time.”

“It has come to me lately that Asgard might just be a tad dull. I would never admit it to another, but really, what kind of civilization has only two kinds of music and no pastries? Our bacon is quite good, but other wise, dull.”  
He stretched a bit, walking around in the stone’s thoughts, observing the flashes on its facets that seemed to signal confusion. 

“At any rate, I can barely convince Nora to be a princess. I can only begin to imagine the ruckus should I try to crown her queen of anywhere, let alone Asgard, which she would most assuredly despise.”

With a sly, insinuating tone, the stone purred to him, “But we could make your female see the error of her ways. That your desires, your wisdom, will be her shepard into perfect happiness. She would not just be your queen, she would be- what are you laughing at?”

“I think you are greatly overestimating your power, if you think you can persuade my treasure of ANYTHING, let alone of my wisdom on any topic. Outside of the sartorial.: He thought for a moment, tapping the tip of the Scepter to his chin, “Or the carnal.”

There was a sound like two jagged glass edges being rubbed together, “But-”

“You already said that. I think perhaps you were in Thanos’ hands for a touch too long, little rock. It has given you strange ideas, since the average bit of jewelry does not have delusions of totalitarianism. I think I might have to advise Banner about expanding your education, because for being the essence of thought, you are rather limited.”

If a mineral could make a huffing noise, that was what the Stone did now.

“Please excuse me. I have so enjoyed this little reunion, but I am in a touch of bother right now and I am sure that Nora is having a conniption of truly epic and adorable proportion. I should hate to miss it.”

 

On Floor Nine, in an Unfinished Office Inside Avenger’s Tower -

Natasha and the HYDRA team leader she was fighting in the doorway to keep them bottled up both both froze, staring at where what could only be a former-cheerleader-turned-drug-company-rep dressed slick, black leather dropped out of the ceiling.

Nat was briefly jealous. She was still in her party dress, and while stylish, the skirt was too full and the collar too easy for an enemy to grab to be practical for hand-to-hand combat.

There was a Ruger SRPc in her left hand that took out the HYDRA teams’ second-in-command, and a 7 inch tactical blade in her right. She landed in a roll, knocking down two soldiers, slashing the back of the knee of a third.  
She popped up, “Hey! Big fan!” She called cheerfully to Natasha as she stabbed and shot her way through the target rich environment. 

With a slight cock to her head, Black Widow recovered more quickly than the stunned HYDRA agent, who she was able to dispatch with two swift blows to the heart. As she waded into the fight she called out over the comms to the other Avengers, asking there was a new recruit she hadn’t been made aware of.

 

Inside of a Secret Lab Somewhere Between Floors Inside of Avenger’s Tower -

Nora stayed by the door, her weapons at hand - a large Swingline stapler, an aluminum water-bottle, various coffee cups in different colours all with Stark Industries logos, all sorts of random pieces of electronic equipment, some of it no doubt very valuable, a small, dying aloe vera plant, and her shoes. 

“LOKI! Goddamn it snap out of it!”

She had been trying for several minutes to get his eyes to focus, for him to see her instead of just having his empty eyes aimed at her. 

Trying without getting within Scepter reach.

It didn’t work.

Fine. 

Plan B. 

Nora remembered what he had told her about how to break someone out of the Scepter’s control. 

She started with one of the coffee cups. It went wide and struck one of his shoulders. She was nervous.

The next one just sailed straight over his head. 

Taking a deep breath, Nora attempted to center herself, to remember the advice of her Little League coach, to stop shaking.

It didn’t work.

Finally, she just started a barrage, hoping if she did it without thinking the muscle memory would kick in.

Loki had been hit in the face by two of the cups, one shoe, and a very heavy piece of electronic something or other, when he blinked twice, and then raised his Scepter-free left hand to catch the water-bottle.

“Nora? What are you- hey!” He dodged that seemed to be a very nice tablet, and then back the other way to avoid the heavy stapler.

“Stay back!” She yelled, a ball of copper wire and memory chips in her hand, ready to fly.

He smiled at her. He looked delighted.

Nora leaned closer, trying to get a better look at his eyes. They weren’t glow-y, but she couldn’t be sure.

“Little princess, are you trying to give me a blow to the head to rescue me?” He prowled closer to her, and she back up out of the room, grabbing a handful of her random ammunition on the way. “I am so pleased, even if you should have run for my brother.”

With a burst of that godly speed that she never got used to, Loki had reached her, disarmed her, and had pulled her face close to his. His eyes were green and perfect. “I can assure you, my mind is as much mine as it ever is. And this,” he took her hand and pressed it flat to his chest, “is yours alone.”

“What happened? And why do you have that?” She pointed at the Scepter, stepping back and crossing her arms, “Young man.”

“Well, it is mine, after all. A gift is a gift, no matter who gave it. And I felt it and I needed to have a chat. Plus, Stark was attempting to use it for some purpose without actually understanding what it is entirely, so I think I may have just saved him a world of trouble by stopping that little science fair experiment of his. I would have thought better of Banner at least,” he mused, thoughtfully.

“Ugh,” she kissed him briefly, and then longer as his free arm wrapped around her, pulling her gently to him. “You scared me so bad, damn it,” she whispered, nuzzling against his chin.

“Deepest apologies, my treasure. Would you feel safer holding it?” 

“Is that a come on?”

Loki snorted, and then put the Scepter in her hand. 

It was heavier than it looked. It was warm to the touch, like the outside of a heating oven, but otherwise it was just a stick with a blade. 

“I can’t believe that this thing is so dangerous,” Nora said examining it from all angles. Long, lethal, gorgeous. Just her type. “Take it back.” She thrust it at him.

“Are you sure you trust me with it?” 

His voice was very soft.

“Do you trust yourself with it? Because if you do, I do.”

He kissed her again as he took the weapon back, “Sadly, I fear that this rather changes the game. I need to ensure that this stays safe from HYDRA. They have already done more mischief with it than my brother and his friends know. And as the God of Mischief I am afraid that this unauthorized rascality cannot stand. So you must hide, and I must hunt.”

 

A bit later in the Lobby of the Avenger’s Tower -

All in all this was not the worst party Tony had ever thrown. THAT had been his thirtieth birthday celebration in Phuket. Although he was pretty sure that he wasn’t responsible for the fire, the incident with the tigers was on him.  
Still. This was pretty bad.

It had started well enough. Good food, excellent drinks, a surprisingly enjoyable - if slightly more inept than expected - band with a strong front woman, everyone’s friends getting along with everyone else’s friends. Some dancing, some hook-ups in the bathrooms, almost no politics. Just what a party should be.

Yeah, Pepper wasn’t there. And, sure, he didn’t know exactly where she was, but that was fine. He had had plenty of parties without her. But maybe there was a small part of him that was happy when the HYDRA agents attacked because it meant no one else would ask him about her tonight. 

Of course, it would have been better if he was properly suited up for the occasion, but his main armour was still being repaired, and there seemed to be multiple sources jamming his internal communications and he couldn’t even raise Jarvis.

He had managed to get a few pieces of his various specialty and work-in-progress suits to answers his signals. Currently Iron Man was made up of a full left leg including the boot, the right thigh piece, the ass-guard, the chest piece, the right pauldron, and the left glove. Each was a slightly different color and pattern, and under it could still be seen in bits of his now ruined Brioni charcoal three piece. 

His new Corthay’s were probably a total loss as well.

While Maria Hill directed the start of the clean up as her special unit swept the first floor, Tony was trying to figure out where the rest of the team were and where there was still active fighting in the building.

Thus far he had found out that Thor had taken out the air support, but that HYDRA had an asset in one of their helicopters, and while she was out she had managed to mojo Prince of Space and he was now running through the halls shouting something about rabbits and grave danger.

Bruce had secluded himself in the Clean Room they had set up in case of broken glass.

The last time he had heard from the Widow it was some garbled message about her taking an intern.

He was pretty sure he had heard that wrong.

As for Cap and the junior varsity team - Falcon and WarMachine - all unaccounted for. Tony wasn’t worried. They were actual soldiers, and Cap had pretty much been invented to kick Nazi’s in the kraut so he was probably having the time of his life.

Hill was holding her ear and looking confused. “Are your comms working? Give me that.” Tony tried to snatch her earpiece, but she batted his hand away, giving him an irritable slap on his uncovered shoulder.

“Yeah, I heard you, I just don’t believe it,” she said to whoever was on the other end. “No. NO! Do not engage. You see him, you run.”

“What? Fuck, did they…” Tony’s mind raced to the worst case scenario. “They were here for Loki, weren’t they? Shit.”

Hill gave him a weird look, “I don’t think so. Or if they were they are probably sorry about it. It seems I had a team on seven just get rescued by him.”

“Um, what now?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding, “and I quote from Cararas, ‘He just swaggered up, holding that fucking spear-thing, took out two fucking assault teams, motherfucking nodded at my ass, and then sauntered away looking for more trouble.’”

“Huh.”

“So are we more afraid now, or less?”

He shook a finger at her, “Good question. See if Thor has come down from the bad acid yet, I’m going up to seven.”

 

Some of the sounds heard over the next few hours in various locations throughout Avengers’ Tower -

Shots being fired wildly.

Blood spray.

High-pitched screams ending in gurgling sounds.

“Sir, your highness, I have Mr. Whitehall on comms, he feels that your interests and those of HYDRA can intersect to a mutual advantage. If you would… why are you laughing?” 

Small, surprisingly contained explosions.

The sound of a very sharp blade entering flesh and tearing outwards.

“Please, God save me!”

“Ehehehehehehehehe… adorable…”

Energy weapon discharge.

Several computers crashing to the ground at once.

Lots of glass breaking.

“Are you surrendering or praying down there? I accept both. For today at any rate, now put your weapons down like good little boys or daddy will be sooo cross. Excellent.”

Furniture scraping on floor and then crashing through walls.

More screaming.

Some whimpers.

Wonderful, echoing silence.

Then, a soft, deep voice, “Nora? It’s safe now.”

The shifting of ceiling tile.

A sigh, “Good. I don’t know how Kelsey can stand it up here. So stuffy. Catch me.” 

A gentle ripple of velvet skirts on the air, the impact of a body on another body, and a whoomphing noise coming from a woman when the wind is knocked out of her.

Swaggering footsteps.

 

Later still, in the Lounge of Avengers’ Tower -

Tony had found Cap and the Widow on three and fourteen, respectively.

Cap was finishing restraining some troops and directing security to sweep the elevator shafts. 

Widow was stroking Thor’s hair and telling him that the rabbits were just fine, while they perched on an actual stack of armored HYDRA agents. She motioned for him to move along. 

She had a way with the big guys.

As he went to meet back up with Rogers she whispered, “Seriously. Great hire on that new woman. She’s got a lot of promise.”

“Jarvis,” he said to what he hoped was his now coming back online system, “reminder to check the personnel files as soon as all the fires are out.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“J! Report!”

He nodded, frowned, and nodded more. “Well, that’s not good. Where is he now?’

“The Lounge, sir. Shall I send a security unit?”

“No. Find Rogers and tell him to meet me there. Armed for bear. Or god. Whichever is more armed.”

 

A Little After That, in the Lounge of the Avengers’ Tower-

“The room is clear,” Loki said, turning back to Nora and motioning for her to follow him from the emergency stairway into the room where the party had been such a shockingly short time before.

The fight in the gorgeous, two-tiered lounge had been quick and vicious based on how contained the damage was to a few places. Luckily the buffet and bar were untouched. Both of them were starving.

“Are you sure the building is secure? What about the rest of the people attending the party, did they get out?” Nora asked as she filled the empty platter that Loki was holding. He juggled it with the Scepter for a minute, until she shook her head and took the weapon, tucking it into the little, decorative leather belt on her dress. It banged her calves, but at least it meant he they could concentrate on getting fed.

After the serving tray was filled with food, Nora went to the bar. Her first thought was whisky, but since this was going to be their farewell she grabbed one of the bottles of champagne, showing Loki the label.

He shook his head while popping a stuffed shishito pepper. 

After three bottles she found one that met his approval. She grabbed a pair of old style glasses, and they made themselves at home on one of the slightly over-designed couches.

They ate perfect bites of steak on brioche with sriracha aioli, things that looked like tea-cup cakes but were actually spun sugar flavored with anisette, slices of mushroom and stilton tart, sea urchin roe (which Nora thought tasted like a bad day at the public beach), figs with bacon, and about a pound of caviar each.

“This is nowhere near as good as what we had in Russia,” Nora said, still filling her mouth.

Loki kissed her fingertips, “My peasant wench is turning into a snob. How the mighty have fallen.”

“Shut up and hand me one of those abalone skewers.”

“You know, with the Scepter, I have a small access to my magic. It would be a very small spell to turn your eyes blue and then -”

“Nope.”

“Nora, you will be safe. They will think I ran into you in the halls and took you as my… erotic toy.”

Nora snorted champagne through her nose, “No! Hilarious, but no. I’m not ashamed of you. Besides, my godmother kidnapped Pepper Potts and handed her over to Charles and Mrs. Beekman for safe keeping. I don’t trust her with Frederique. She’s waaayyyy too into blondes. Anyway, I figure we can exchange me for her if we have to.”

Loki stared at her dumbfounded, “Are you certain you are Nora? My moral, upright little princess?”

She shrugged. “You know I would give her back no matter what. I just - I really needed to make sure I could get to you. And it was Thomas’s idea,” she added quickly.

After Nora finished eating, and then Loki cleared the rest of the tray, they settle back with their glasses.

“I would like to propose a toast,” he said, lifting the coupe lazily. Nora raised her glass as well, “to your dangerous and clever cousin, my loyal and talented servants, your friends and their questionable but well-intentioned desire to reunite us, and my brother and his tiny mate. For your sake I am gratified.”

Nora gave him a look.

“Very well, and Thomas if I must,” he sighed.

Nora sighed too, shaking her head. 

They drank. 

“This is better than what we had in Russia,” Nora said.

 

When Captain America, Iron Man, and Black Widow found them, Loki had stretched out on the divan, eyes closed, one foot on the floor, the other long leg wrapped around Nora who lay with her cheek on his chest. He was stroking her hair with one hand and they were talking about nothing - how Nora wished she could have taken him to a Sox game, if maybe there was some kind of magic he could have taught her, how unfair his eyelashes were.

They just wanted to hear each other’s voices while they could.

Nora opened her eyes.

Black Widow was hanging back a bit, staring at them from the other side of the cocktail table, a gun of some kind aimed at them.

Iron Man was standing at the foot of the sofa, his armor looking a little weird. His head looked really naked without the helmet. He started to aim and then dropped his arm, confused, “Your… your the singer, right. Unexpected Quadruped?”

“Makeshift.”

Loki opened an eye, “Captain.” 

Nora turned and saw Cap on the other side of the couch, arms crossed. She grabbed the Scepter that Loki had been twirling in his fingers like the lead majorette in Hades, “Stop showing off, ass. Here, um, Captain.” She stood up and held it out to him, “I know this is going to sound nuts, but I’m a big fan. You saved my grandfather during the Siegfried Line campaign.”

“Nora,” Loki sounded disgusted, sitting up and causing the various Avengers to twitch and aim.

“Well, excuse me, but if it wasn’t for this man I wouldn’t have been born.”

“I had not considered that. Thank you for your service, Captain. I owe you a debt.”

Nora smiled at him, “Awwwww… sweet.”

“Excuse me… singer...you’re really good by the way… can I see your eyes,” Iron Man said, sounding jittery.

Nora thrust the Scepter into Cap’s hands and then turned and leaned towards Stark, “Brown as they ever were. I’m not mind controlled.”

“I...I…”

The Widow stepped up, “Why did you help us? We finally go onto the HYDRA comms and they didn’t even know you were here, but you could have used them as cover for you escape. With that,” she gestured to the Scepter. “So why?”

Loki stood slowly putting his arm around Nora’s shoulders, they looked at each other while he spoke to Black Widow.

“That is a long story, Agent Romanov. Involving two space tyrants, torture, shape-changing, anger, customer service, karaoke, confusion, travel, brotherly affection, consulting, and, love. I have so much to share, and because I need you to keep this planet safe from a creature named Thanos since I will be leaving something very precious here, I’m going to tell you everything.

“You, specifically, Natasha. I think the boys will get confused if I use big words.” He held out his wrists to be shackled, “Shall we?”

 

In a Room Not Currently Being Used as a Supply Closet in Avenger’s Tower - 

It was reluctantly agreed that Loki would be questioned privately by Agent Romanov in his cell, which left Nora to answer to Cap and Iron Man. 

“I don’t know anything all that interesting, but lead on.”

Avengers Tower didn’t have an interrogation room, since they weren’t legally able to interrogate anyone, so the prisoner was being held in a supply room.

Steve was in a folding chair, looking at a file with a gentle frown, and Tony was half sitting on a card table, pinching the bridge of his nose like a man suffering either a migraine or an aneurysm, occasionally looking at the prisoner.  
“I have to say it, I like your taste. I really do.” He said, his voice fast and clipped. “Is that velvet?”

He dropped his hand, “OK, I give. How did you do it? How did you get through our security?”

“Well, let’s see, I had the help of one of the world’s leading astrophysicists. And her boyfriend. Two senior citizens, one of whom is a martial arts champion and the other who has escaped from more than one North Korean gulag. A supernatural industrial spy, a valet with something extra, and the best darn customer service team you ever got helped by. Oh and lots and lots of money. Not to mention me. Sorry Tony, your security never stood a chance.”

Captain Roger’s looked up, a sad, slightly confused expression on his handsome face, “But you still failed.”

Nora sighed, shaking her head, “Sorry Captain, but you don’t understand. I didn’t break in to break Loki out. I guess I broke in so I could say goodbye.”

They still had questions, and she answered all of them, except for anything to do with her friends, her cousin, or anyone else who helped them. Which meant they bogged down pretty quickly. Although they figured out on their own that Thor had given her some assistance.

“Actually, I have a question,” Nora said finally.

Stark crossed his arms, “This should be good. What’s the question, Mata Nora?”

“How do I get on the committee. See, other than today I am a totally law abiding person. A pretty good person, mostly.”

In the time they had been waiting Jarvis had managed to collect enough information on Nora for report, “Yeah, you are. If this is all true you’re even a hero. You saved people in that Roxxon fire last year. And you were… Battle of New York! You were here? Here? And you still-”

Nora waved that away, “Anyway, I since I am a good person I want to know what it takes to get a hearing before the committee.”

Stark frowned, “What committee?”

“The second chance committee. You got one. How many people have your weapons killed, anyway? Your friend the Black Widow, she got one. How do I get one for Loki?”

“Ah-” Stark started to talk.

“Because, and maybe I’m biased, but there is some pretty compelling evidence that he wasn’t entirely in control of himself the last time we were both in your city. Not a fan, by the way. But as I was saying, second chances, I think we all agree with about them. At least you and I do, Tony. Cap, I’m not sure where you stand.”

Captain Rogers seemed to be thinking about something, and then snapped back, “Yes, I do believe in second chances. Very much so.”

Maybe it was because he was Captain America he just always sounded that way, but there was a sincerity to his voice that gave Nora chills.

Before anyone could say anything else, Stark put a hand to his ear and lifted a finger, speaking while pacing off nervous energy in the small space, “Uh, huh. No. No! We’re not…. we can’t… I-, fuck, Nat! Ok, fine. Fine. What do I know, I’m just the genius makes everything we use. And PAYS for it, but fine!”

He turned back, “Our good friend Agent Romanov has taken upon herself to cut a deal with Loki in the absence of SHIELD or any other group she thinks would be authorized to do so. We cut his girlfriend loose and he gives us … I don’t even know what he’s giving us but apparently it’s big!

“And then we return him again to Asgard! Because that worked out the first time! Thor is in sooooo much trouble!” He stormed out of the room.

Steve and Nora looked at each other for a few moments. He looked oddly sympathetic.

Finally, she spoke.

“Stark is ok, but don’t you find him a little… much sometimes?”

Steve laughed.


	33. I Would Have Gone With You to the End.  To My End, Anyway.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbye.

And just like that, he was gone.

After the deal was struck, which took nearly a day.  

After Nora sat in that little room with Captain America and told him stories about the last year of her life, and a few about the years before.  They talked about Brooklyn in the 30’s and the South Side in the 90’s and Nora’s hero turned into a soft spoken, surprisingly funny guy who seemed to get where she was.  

After Thor came around from whatever state he was in and, or so Nora figured, each and every Avenger took a turn yelling at him as he hung his head.  

After Nora slept on the couch in the Black Widow’s room because they only had the one holding cell and they didn’t think she merited a guest room.  

After Pepper Potts was returned by an as ever unruffled Charles, Mrs. Beekman with her muscled, cardigan-wearing arms crossed over her chest, and a bubbly Hive Queen.

(“See, darlings, she’s fine.  Better than fine.  I got a proper meal into her while we were out.  I swear the poor dear has been living on chia seeds and coffee enemas or some other such nonsense.”

The normally wan looking Ms. Pott’s did look rosy and bright eyed, although Nora wasn’t so sure if it was because she had had a hearty meal or because she may have been one for the pleased looking and cooing Frederique.)

After Tony ran several tests on his AI and discovered that Loki’s assessment of the potential danger from its rapidly developing personality was not only probably true, but maybe not even strong enough.  After all Loki’s sense of “evil v. quirky” was a bit skewed.

After Dr. Banner had to retreat back to his clean room because he was very put out by finding out not only had Thor betrayed them, sort of, but also because the project he had allowed Tony to talk him into had come within hours of being more dangerous than any of the threats it had been designed to defeat.

After everything was settled, and it turned out that Maura had done her job and gotten everyone else out and back to Chicago and points south AND managed to obfuscate their identities enough that even after finding out who Nora was, they were still safe.

After it was realised that it would be next to impossible to seize the assets from the conventional side of Loki’s consultancy without causing several financial crises and creating a backlash that would endanger any number of companies.  Including Stark Industries.

After Tony had a major tantrum upon learning how much money he had paid Loki over the last nine months.  Then, after he looked into the advice he had been given and saw how it had not only increased his profits but had actually helped with his Clean Power/Green Factory initiative and muttered “Son of a bitch,” and wandered off for a while to reconsider his world view.

After they contacted Clint who just said, “Fuck all of you, but go ahead.  We need to know what he knows.  Tell Thor fuck you twice.”

After there was a huge fight about letting them say goodbye, with Tony and Widow on one side and Thor and Steve (Nora felt comfortable calling him Steve by that point) on the other.

 

“I don’t know why Charles Atlas here thinks he even gets a vote,” Tony said with a contemptuous gesture towards Thor.

“Tony, he’s his brother,” Steve tried to placate him.

They were in the lounge, since it seemed like a strange conversation for a boardroom.  

Actually, it was a strange conversation for any room.  But one they still had to have.

“Exactly why he shouldn’t get a damned vote!”

“Here now, Stark!  I am to be faulted for my lack of loyalty to you, my brothers, and sister, in arms, but I will not feel shame at my loyalty to my brother in fact!”  Thor stormed, complete with a stray bolt of lightning that could be seen from the picture windows behind him as he rose to his feet.

“I thought he was adopted,” Tony snipped back at him.

Thor dropped back onto the chair that groaned under his weight, and Tony was again glad he’d had all of the furniture reinforced.  “That was a shameful thing for me to say at that time.   I regret it and always shall.  For all of his ill deeds and his good, for whatever his birth, Loki is my brother and e’er shall be.  Even if some day his vision should darken again and I am forced to put him down, it will be as his brother that I strike.”

They were all quiet for a few minutes.

“Well, that was pretty, but it doesn’t change the fact that we don’t owe him anything.  Or Nora, I mean Ms. Walsh, either.  Her feelings aside, as soon as she knew that Edward Rasmussen was actually Loki she should have contacted SHIELD,” Natasha said, while still going over the pages of Loki’s deposition.  She raised her hand before Steve could speak, “I am not denying that this is valuable, probably invaluable intel.  Even if the information on this Thanos is unprovable, although I am inclined to believe it’s true, the stuff he gave us on Roxxon is going to be game changing.”

Stark nodded, “And Osborne.  I never trusted that asshole.  But so what?  This is still Loki we are talking about and we are considering giving him a final fuck as a goodbye present.”

“Tony-” Steve said in a warning voice that was drowned out by Thor’s roar of outrage.

Before they could stop him he had Tony by the scruff and was shaking him like a bad puppy, “You will not speak of my sister with such disrespect!”

“Thor!  Thor!  Put him down!”  Steve grabbed the angry god’s bicep, knowing he couldn’t actually make him stop, but hoping to get his attention, “We’re all on edge.  Tony, say you’re sorry.”

“Sorry.  I wasn’t… I wasn’t thinking about Walsh, ok?  But your brother, he… he just…”

Thor put him down, “I accept.  Loki has ever been vexing, and none of us are of the most genial temperament.”

“Yeah, watch out for that temper, Tony,” Bruce’s wry voice came from the walls, “Sorry, I thought I should be in on this meeting but I can’t risk… I’m not ready to come out yet so I hooked into the comms.”

“Doesn’t that make your clean room less clean?”  Nat asked, sounding nervous.

“Yeah, but… anyway.  Do we have any proof of the other claims that Ms. Walsh made?  Like about Loki helping end that child sex trafficking group?”

Nat nodded and then realized that Bruce couldn’t see her, “It all checks out.  Even that thing with the pumpkins.”

“I say let them have a night.  What’s it going to hurt?  I’m going back to yoga.”

Steve sighed, “I know what it’s like to be pulled away from the person you love. To lose them to time.  Trust me, both of them are going to be punished enough without us just being… spiteful by not letting them say goodbye.  If we are supposed to be the good guys, shouldn’t we let them have this?”

Nat looked at Steve, “I probably shouldn’t be the one making the moral calls, anyway.  Whatever you say, Captain.”

Thor smiled.

Tony shook his head, “Ok, fine.  You might even be right, but I can’t help thinking that we are rewarding him for being an asshole.”

 

Nora took a shower, toweled off her hair, and then sat on the huge, fur-covered bed, her feet swinging back and forth, wrapped in a towel as large as a queen-sized duvet.  Steve had come to get her from the supply room and told her that they were going to move her somewhere more comfortable for the rest of the time she was there.

She had joked where she might be going afterwards, and was not comforted when he didn’t laugh at the mention of Guantanamo.

Instead, as he left her at the door, he gave her a wry smile, “Tomorrow Loki’s going back to Asgard.  Hopefully for good.  So tonight… um…” he scratched the back of his neck and blushed.

Nora, unable to stop herself, hugged Captain America.

It had to be Thor’s room, she thought as she waited.  Everything was slightly too large and had a Teutonic locker room aesthetic.  

After a few minutes she hopped off the bed and dragged the train of her towel behind her to the windows.  It was night again.  She had been held for two days now.  

From behind her a dark, soft voice said, “I approve of your new gown.  It looks very easy to remove, even without aid of magic.”

“It’s red, though.  Red is not my color.”

She turned towards him while flicking at the top of the towel so it opened and dropped to her feet.  While really hoping there wasn’t a phalanx of guards or an Avenger with him.

Thankfully, he was alone, standing in the doorway.

“That is infinitely better,” he agreed.

It was awkward undressing him while trying to stay kissing the whole time.  He managed to remove his own shoes without bending over, but the jacket was so fitted Nora couldn’t get it off his shoulders, so Loki just grabbed his own lapels and ripped it into two while she fumbled at the buttons of his shirt.

When it was open she slid her hands under the warm linen until she was pressed against his skin and she was kissing his throat, licking his clavicle, biting his shoulder, all the while their fingers getting in each other’s way as she pulled hard on his belt to pop the prong on the buckle and he unzipped.  Each tooth of the zipper coming undone seemed to vibrate through his flesh and into hers.

“Your magic has me off my game,” Nora whispered to his skin.  “There was a time I could have a guy stripped in a minute flat.”

As ever, there was no underwear to worry about when undressing Loki.

He stepped from his pants, pushing his cashmere socks off with his toes, and lifted her, carrying her back to her perch on the edge of the bed, “If I had my magic now I would do such things to you as would make this pitiful tower shake to its foundations and your screams would shatter every pane of glass,” he knelt as he spoke and gave tiny, shallow licks all along her slit with each word.

“I don’t think you’re going to need it,” she gasped out, her voice so faint she didn’t think he could hear her until his ratcheting laugh rumbled against her clit and she arched off of the bed, weeks of loneliness, fear, and stress roiling out of her body in a sudden and yet also long overdue orgasm.

He stood, staring down at her as if to frame her in his mind forever as she was at that moment, and before he could move again Nora slithered down from the furs to kneel before him.  He tried to reach down for her, but she batted his hand away, leaning her cheek against his thigh.  His chest was perfectly hairless, but his legs were not, and she rubbed her face on the fine, surprisingly silky hair, breathing him in.  She caressed and stroked the backs of his legs, his perfect ass, the small of his back, and then back again.  

When he couldn’t move her, Loki widened his stance, holding the bedpost with one hand, gently scratching into her hair with the other.  She could feel him swaying slightly, and looking up the length of his body she could see his head rolling back on his shoulders, dreamily aroused.

Having that kind of power over a god was addicting.  And soon she would be suffering through the withdrawal.

She nuzzled his testicles, breathing deeply to fill herself with the memory of that intense, intimate smell, and then started to lick him as he had her, with small strokes of her pointed tongue.  He tasted so good, and Nora closed her eyes and took his cock in her mouth, losing herself in his ecstasy, recording every ridge and texture and curve for the time he was gone.

  
  


Loki wanted to spend hours pleasuring Nora and being pleasured by him, but he had no idea how long his jailors would allow.  Still, he indulged himself for a few minutes in the heat of her mouth and the sight of this stubborn, funny girl worshipping him.

With more strength than he thought to have, Loki drew Nora to her feet and held her against him for a few moments, their mouths close but not kissing, their eyes near enough for their lashes to brush.  Then he gently pushed her onto the bed and thrust into her harder than he had ever let himself.  He wanted to bruise her now, to leave his marks upon her and know that for a time at least the sight of her own skin and the ache in her flesh would be a reverie of them together.

Then he forgot himself and reveled in being where he thought to never be again, deep and sure, in that place of his greatest abandon and most absolute peace.

Every bit of her clamped him, from her luscious cunt, to her long legs, her twined arms, and even her teeth.  Her body not ready to give him up.  

His body agreed and held sway.  There was nowhere else to be, but in and on and under and beside Nora.  His fingers worked between their bodies, hooking her clit, tormenting it mercilessly, refusing to let either of them find completion as he coiled around and about her body, changing their positions every time either of them grew too close.

Finally, covering his princess like they were beasts, he spoke close in her ear.  For once no baroque language or elaborate vows came to his tongue.  “I love you.  I always shall.  Never forget us as we are together.  Never forget who I am when I am yours.  No matter the centuries, I never will.”

Nora clawed at the silk sheets as they came together, and then burst into ugly, raw tears.

They lay tangled in the midst of Thor’s huge bed until a discreet knock and his brother’s failed attempt at a soft voice told them that they had only a quarter hour more.

There had been another argument about if Nora should be allowed to accompany them that went on the entire time they had all been crowded into the elevator.  Loki and her, Thor, the Black Widow, Captain America, and Stark.

Considering how heavy she knew the Asgardians were, Nora wondered if there was any way that this was safe.

“They already said goodbye.  All night.  At the top of their lungs,”  Stark grumped.  “Those walls are supposed to be sound-proofed, by the way.  That contractor is going to hear from me, because I… I may never be able to function again after that.”

“No great loss, Stark,” Loki murmured.  Then he looked around the small space and smiled down at Nora, “I just had the most delicious idea… what a pity.”  

Amazingly, even surrounded by stern superheroes and still aching and creaky, Nora felt her body prickle with desire at the thought of something as hokey as sex in an elevator.

“Ugh, stop that!” Tony shouted.  “Can you?  Stop it, I mean?”

Cap and Nora both blushed.

Black Widow looked up from her phone where she was texting Hawkeye and rolled her eyes, “Why are Americans still so prissy about sex?”

Thor shrugged.  In truth, from what Loki had told her the Aesir were also not especially comfortable being public on carnal matters either, but it seemed that being Loki’s brother and companion had long since battered the blushes from the big guy.

“Are you claiming to never have enjoyed a lover’s favors in a lift, Stark?  Next you will tell me you are strictly a missionary position man, and I will-”

“SHUT UP!”  Stark roared.

Loki laughed.

It was sunrise, and New York looked beautiful from the roof of the Tower.  Golden light reflecting on all of the buildings.  You would never know that just a few years before it had all been rubble and smoke and screams, Nora’s among them.

“Are you well, treasure?”  Loki asked.

“I just hate it here.”

“Chicago is much better,” he nodded.

“Thank you.”

Loki looked at the Avengers, who were far from gloating, “As the honorable heroes I expect you to honor our agreement per Ms. Walsh?  She goes free and maintains her wealth for as long as I stay away and continue to supply you, through my brother, with useful information.”  It was not a question.

Nora was thankfully cried out.  Her eyes burned.  Loki brushed a kiss on her forehead as Thor signaled for their ride.  She reached up to cup his face in her hands and just looked at him.

The blast of air and the shock of the rainbow striking the roof almost knocked Nora from her feet, and she could barely hear, “Goodbye,” over the roar.

 

Charles had to let Nora in, since she had lost her keys along with her shoes.

Before he could say anything she shook her head, “Could you get me a phone?  I need to call my cousin.”

He bowed slightly and went to the office while Nora waited.  He returned with one of the secure phones, “May I get you anything?”

“No.  Thank you, Charles. Is Mrs. Beekman here?”

“Yes.  She and Django are in the kitchen.”

Nora smiled a tiny bit thinking about her aunt’s hideous, immortal dog.  “Thank her for me, for everything.  I’ll… I’ll thank her myself later, and you, God!  Thank you!  I owe you more than that but -”

In a wildly impulsive act, Charles lightly placed his hand on her sleeve, “No thanks are needed, ma’am.  I am honored to serve.”  Then he turned bright red, “I will leave you to your call.”

Standing in the hall, Nora dialed the number she had memorized and that immediately deleted itself from the phone.

“Nora!”

“Hi.  I’m home.”

“Are you alright?  Did they hurt… no, they’re the good guys aren’t they?  How are you?  Is Loki-,” Maura’s musical voice was high with stress.

“He’s gone.  I’m fine,” she stopped, “no, I’m not.  I hate to ask you for anything else but can you let everyone know that I’m home?  And he isn’t.  And isn’t going to be.”

“Nora...” there was almost a sob to her cousin’s voice.

Nope, she couldn’t deal with that yet. 

“I’ll call you soon.  I promise.”

Without waiting for Maura’s response Nora turned off the phone and set it on the table near the door and went to what was now just her bedroom to lay down for a while.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True story, my landlord's mother in law has just moved in with him and his husband, and she has a seventeen-year old rat terrier/ yorkie mix the size of a not very large shoe. He torments their sweet West Highland terrier and looks like he should have been buried years ago. So Django is real.


	34. Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell. - Edna St. Vincent Millay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora is on Earth, Loki isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you again to my beloved and beautiful Caffiend for all of her love and tears and beta'ing.
> 
> Also, while you are here, if you haven't been reading Hurricanerin's wicked Loki - http://archiveofourown.org/works/11012967/chapters/24538590 , or dianamolloy's dangerous Loki - http://archiveofourown.org/works/9637247/chapters/21770759 they have both been updated and are amazing.

Loki distracted himself by trying to come up with a list of the things he was least looking forward to on his less than triumphant return to Asgard.  By the time Thor and he arrived he had narrowed it down to seeing Odin,  _ speaking _ to Odin, hearing Odin speak, the pleased little smile he knew Sif, Fandral, and Volstagg were going to give him, the baked goods, and everything about Heimdal.

The Isle of Silence did not seem so bad, considering.

So it was vastly surprising when not only did none of Thor’s squad look anything other than solemn - except for Hogan who had surpassed his normal solemnity and gone all of the way into woe - but Heimdall, after welcoming back Thor, had inclined his head towards Loki and politely murmured, “Welcome home, Your Grace.”

As he nodded toward the guardian, out of the corner of his mouth he asked his brother, “Father’s planning to have me executed, isn’t he?”

“I have heard no such rumor.  Had I, we would not have returned here.”

“How sweet of you.”

No one else spoke as they travelled to the palace.  Normally Loki would have enjoyed a bit of pointless needling back and forth with the others, ending with his finding a genuine cruelty to ensure his supremacy as the bitterest wit in the Realm of the Witless, but his heart was not in such games.

His heart was on the other side of the universe.

He wondered how long the rest of him would live without it.

Not that he planned anything to especially hasten such an end.  The vision of Thor returning to Nora, of her having to hear such news and how she might react would keep him safe from himself for at least the next five or six, or if she cared for herself properly and was blessed with great good fortune, seven decades.

After that, who could say?  Life alone, the fashion of alone that came from being without that one person with whom he was never, ever lonely, was likely to be an echo chamber of screaming, and mad laughter.  Good for neither the universe nor himself.

He was surprised to find them escorted not to the throne room, or one of the tiring chambers, but to his own former rooms.

One of those servants whose names he had never bothered himself with bowed and opened the doors for him.  Loki stopped, “Thank you….?”

The man paled and refused to look up, shaking a bit, “My life is to serve, highness.”

“I was perhaps too subtle. I was asking for your name.”

“Why?” the man cried out in terror, and then put a hand to his mouth in horror, “Apologies, highness, I beg your forgiveness.”

Thor gave a bit of a laugh, “Maybe you should just go…?”

“Gunvar, highness.  Thank you!”  The man actually ran.

Loki put his hands on his hips and stared after him, “Was I really that bad?”

“Yes,” answered Thor, Sif, Volstagg, Fandral, and the six einherjar that had escorted them.

Hogun just nodded.

“Ah.”

Inside, his rooms were as he left them. Regal and cold, save for the small reading room where he would entertain Frigga.  More than anything Loki wished to take to his bed for a while, or barring that, his workroom, where he might distract himself for a time.  

Alas, Odin was awaiting him in the pitiable throne room Loki created for himself.  

On the throne, naturally.

When he had last seen the AllFather, Odin had looked like a worn monument, a man diminished by grief and the awareness of the role of his own failings in the tragedies of his life.  He now looked … he looked the same, even if less fresh in that grief he would never again be the king or the man he had been when Frigga was alive.

“Daddy!”  Loki cried out, giving a sweeping bow, “So happy you have made yourself at home.  Shall I fetch you a hot beverage?  Perhaps a pillow?  As I recall the ergonomics of that particular seat are excessively cruel.”

Odin shook his head slowly, “I had no idea you had such a room,” he said, gesturing to the reception space.

“Just a little something I added when I found out that you were giving Thor the throne.  I may have been drunk.  Or just in a snit,”  Loki sprawled on the stairs leading to the throne.  Odin gave him a strange look.  “Apologies, but it has already been a long day, and if I am to be sent to the Isle of Silence I want to be well rested ahead of it.  Excuse me, did you just roll your eyes?”  

Loki coiled into a sitting position to stare at the king, “You DID roll your eyes!  Ha!”

“My son, you could make a painting roll its eyes,” Odin muttered.  

“We all have our little gifts.  Do you think I could be allowed to bathe before being exiled again?  I am certain that the quality of the soaps and oils on the Isle will be lacking.  As will water, I am guessing,” he stood stretching and had trotted down two stairs when Odin spoke again.

“What is she like?”

Loki’s head whipped around, his hair cracking like a whip, “None of your business!”

“I simply wonder at the nature of the one who has won the heart of my fussy second child.  Your mother arranged marriage after marriage for you to the loveliest and noblest creatures in the Realms, but none were good enough for you. Now I understand you had planned to marry this mortal woman.”

“None of them _ were _ good enough.  I required one who was _ too _ good for me.”

“I wish to know wh-”

“No.  Now, unless you have any other topic, I am for the bath,” he started to leave again.

“As to the matter of if you are for the Isle, or to be allowed to remain in these comfortable chambers, it is entirely in your hands.”

“Well, then,” Loki nodded, spreading his hands wide, “I choose here.  Now if you shall excuse me.  Again.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Loki smirked, sitting back down, “I rather thought it would not be.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The most comfortable bed in the world would start to hurt after a while if you lay on it for too long, Nora discovered.  

Then, she had been sore when she had first gotten into it.  And not only from the proprietary marks left by the greedy mauling Loki had given her last night.  The pain from those felt good.  Periodically she would press her thumb into each bruise, partly to enjoy a kinky Proustian moment of pure memory but mostly to make sure they didn’t fade too quickly.  

Nora had always been a fast healer.

She just hurt, everywhere.  Her muscles were aching like someone with the flu, when she thought about him her skin prickled over like pins were forcing their way out of her.  Her blood felt sluggish and poisonous.

But now Nora was sore from stillness.  From the pressure of her body on the mattress and no amount of rolling over or shifting helped.  Her bones ached.

Her brain hurt as well.  It was as if the edges of the thoughts she was trying not to have were abraded and burnt and rubbing against each other.

There was, at about the time Nora was thinking she would have to get up since it was becoming unbearable, a soft knock on the door, “Yes?”

“Ma’am,” Charles’ grey voice was pitched just loudly enough to be heard, “are you certain there is nothing I can get you?”

“Maybe some coffee in a bit.  I think I need a shower first.”

“Very good.”

“Charles?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“How long have I been laying here?”

“It is noon, ma’am.”

Nora snorted and started to laugh.  Three hours.  It had been three hours.  

How the hell was she going to last another fifty years?

One thing was for certain, she was going to be sleeping in the guest room from then on.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that summer -

Nora smiled, passing the crowds of hot, disgruntled people waiting to get into the Temple.  She had continued the standing bribe that ensured the former CDV group their table, even though this was the first time she had shown up herself for a few months.

She smiled at the guitar from the band who was getting himself a pre-show coffee from the bar, and who have her a pleased nod.

She smiled at Micah the actor/waiter/escape expert.

She smiled at the table of her friends who all smiled back.  Weakly, sadly, worriedly.  

But Nora didn’t.  She smiled brightly.  She smiled hard.

It helped that no one knew what to say to her, since she had nothing to say.   Marissa started to ask her how she had been in the weeks she had dodged calls and answered emails and texts with an economy of style that Hemingway would have criticised as ‘sparse.’

Nora shook her head, still smiling, “I’m good.  I’m fine.  Just a lot of work suddenly being in charge of the consultancy, you know?”

Yup.   Posing for that new portrait that was hanging in the lobby of the office building she had never even been to had taken up so much time.

Mr. Choe shook his head and reached across the table, getting his cuff soaked in pizza grease, and patted her hand, “Sexy Librarian, I am very damned old and I know that no woman in the history of the world has ever actually been fine.  So stop it.  Or don’t.  Whatever you need to do.”

Everyone nodded.  Except Kelsey who was texting Black Widow.  Natasha was constantly trying to lure her to join the Avengers new team she and Cap were training.  Instead, without looking up, she just said, “Yeah, Boss.  No one expects you to be ok, you know?”

Hearing Kelsey call her Boss, instead of …. Nora refused to think it.  She shoved that in basement of her thoughts with all other things from the last year that she wouldn’t think about.

“Can someone get me a drink?”  

Immediately seven hands were raised, waiters were called for, everyone relieved to have something to do.  Within minutes Nora had a margarita on the rocks, a whiskey sour, two beers - an IPA and a stout - a whole bottle of red wine, a dry martini with extra olives, and a shot of Malort.

She frowned at the Malort.  “Really?”  She asked Dre.  “I thought we were friends?”

He shrugged. “If you’re already miserable, why not go for it?”

It was just logic.  She downed it and managed to keep it where it belonged.

Spacing out slices of pizza that she nibbled and were making her slightly sick, Nora was able to drink almost everything else, although she allowed herself to be persuaded to share the wine with the rest of the table.  Marissa toasted Magnus.  It seemed like the right thing to do.

When the cards came around to fill for song selections Nora just slid her’s away.  

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Loki smiled as he drove one of his daggers into the kidney of the High Priestess of the  _ Eldþursar  _ cult, while throwing the other one into the heart of the rickety and extremely dangerous doomsday machine they had built to engulf Vanaheim in fire.

Of course a doomsday machine was supposed to be dangerous, just not in the way that this piece of rubbish was.  It  _ would _ engulf Vanaheim in fire, thus signalling the beginning of Ragnarok.  It would also, almost immediately upon the conflagration occurring, then suck the fire back into itself and keep sucking until it had turned the current reality of the universe inside out.  

Including Sutr and his subjects, meaning the universe would end, but this time would not restart itself from the ashes of their fires.  Loki shook his head.   All of these people wanted to destroy the universe and not one of them seemed to understand the rules of how to do it.

The machine made a small noise like a burp, then glowed faintly green as the enchantment on the dagger infected its own seidr, and then fell into a heap of all of its component parts.  One of them was a confused but surprisingly stoic toddler who promptly started grabbing some of the shinier other pieces of the wreckage to play with.

“Volstagg!  If you would?”  Loki gritted through his smile as he wrestled with the still struggling and hopeful priestess.

“Right!”  The bearded twit gave a quick headbutt to his current opponent, a cultist armed with a club and a number of tentacles, breaking its beak and probably giving himself a headache.  He then picked up the child, “Here now, that’s not a fun toy is it?  All of that eldritch nonsense.  Let’s go find you a nice stuffie!  I think the temple has a gift shop…” 

After they had finished killing all of the cultists (except for the three clerks in the gift shop who convinced Sif that they had only converted because they all really needed the work) and making certain the parts of the doomsday machine were either destroyed or returned to their owner, and parents, Loki signaled for Heimdall.

“Are you staying?” he asked Hogun.  

The Grim One nodded.  “There is a lot of cleaning up to do, and you Aesir never pick up your messes.”

Fandral made a gesture to the ruins of the building, “We did actually just save your planet.  You expect us to pick up after ourselves as well?”

“I am not actually Aesir, but no, I won’t be helping either,” Loki said, and then the Bifrost took the rest of  them back to Asgard.

As they walked past Heimdall, Sif and the Warriors Two to report to Odin, and Loki to his luxurious jail, the Guardian spoke, “Your Grace.  I have seen, upon Midgard-”

Not stopping his stride, Loki made a dismissive gesture, “No.”

After a few more steps he stopped and turned, “Thank you, but no,” and with a slight bow turned back to his waiting guards. “Hurry up, I am starving, and I reek of ichor.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that Autumn -

Nora saw New Zealand and went swimming and pretended to like the beach for the sake of her fretting cousin and her cousin’s overly protective lover.  The sound of the air itself kept her up, and she did a pretty good job of pretending to eat.  She refused to talk about him, even to them.  Even to a surprisingly concerned Thomas.  She refused to think his name.  And she smiled.

Nora visited New Orleans and went dancing with AJ and CiCi, who were planning on having a baby but couldn’t decide which of them would actually carry her - they were sure they it would be a girl. When they started to bring up New York she just changed the subject and they exchanged grim looks they thought she couldn’t see.  Later, she sat at a dinner she did not eat with the directors of the Goblin Market and visited the cemeteries to make sure the ghosts were in order.  When they invited her back for the Halloween ball she politely declined.  With a smile.

Nora travelled to Alaska while the weather was still good.  Because her brother Sam was so uncomfortable with visitors in his space, she slept in the treehouse that he lived in during the deepest part of the winter.  It was frighteningly quiet, but she managed to read a few pages of a book for the first time in months, and later couldn’t remember any of it.  She threw balls for Brutus. When Sam asked what had happened to her boss, she made some vague noises about visa issues and then threw the ball again.  Smiling all the while.

Nora went to California to visit the consultancy offices there and stopped in Sacramento to see her other brother and his family.  She set up trusts for her two nieces and her nephew that no one else in the family could touch.  And when Chris set up a surprise brunch with their parents, she smiled at Mickey and Eileen - who thought she looked a bit thin -  for the first time since she was twelve.  

It was easy.  

Because it didn’t mean anything.  

Because she didn’t feel anything.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Loki saw the mass of ships arrayed in the space above Gilmarus 5 and promptly sent half of his Asgard fleet back home.  They were using the Teruvian formation and were clearly going to use it as a springboard for the Seven Squares maneuver, which no one had told them had a fatal flaw when used during a planetary siege.  As he signalled for the start of the counter-attack, he yawned.

Loki and Lorelei broke into an ancient ruin of a  Niflheimr castle, sneaking through countless traps in order to steal the Goblet of Vindr from the horde of a dragon that had long since become nothing more than a skeleton.  

A spiteful skeleton.  

That could still breathe acid.  

Then Loki fell asleep on the trip back home, only waking up in time to stop Lorelei from ‘borrowing’ the ship they were using to ‘do a little shopping’ on Álfheimr.

Loki finished the negotiations for the Treaty between the Vox Hive and the Antiderrian Water Spirits in record time because he genuinely did not care how it turned out.  

Because for the first time in his life he had no investment in anything that happened.

Because he found he did not care about anything at all.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

November 8, 2014 -

Nora got up just after dawn, took a long hot shower, and made herself breakfast, having given both Mrs. Beekman and Charles the day off.   It was entirely possible Charles was in his room, cleaning and reorganizing his athletic shoe collection, since he had few outside interests, but she knew he would not so much as peek his head out before the next day.  

She wanted to be alone.

For the first time since he - she made herself think his name - since Loki had gone she ate in the small dining room.

Loki.

Loki.

Loki.

Now that she had thought his name, it wouldn’t go away.  

After eating a full meal for the first time in months, and worrying she wouldn’t be able to keep it down, Nora cleaned up and then went into the office.  Also for the first time in months.  She had set herself up a workspace in the large dining room after New York.  She sat in his - Loki’s - chair and started to scroll through his laptop, looking at spells.  She pulled out grimoires, most of which she couldn’t read, and files on the hidden side of the consultancy.

Loki’s perfect, copperplate hand filled hundreds of pages that meant nothing to her again.

Loki.

There it was again.  Tolling through her head like a bell.

Plenty of people still owed the firm money, and for what would be the last time, Nora billed clients and sent vaguely threatening emails.  If it had been a conventional business no one would have received anything until Monday morning, but Saturday was a work day for the various Goblin Markets, covens, cults, schools, and conspiracies they serviced.

Since it had become an open secret in the magical community who had actually been the proprietor of Rasmussen Consulting, by the end of the day every outstanding debt had been paid, each accompanied by a very polite and apologetic note.

Nora closed out the last day of business with a simple email and a shot of whiskey.

Then she went to the master bedroom.  

Opening it for the first time in months, Nora found herself remembering the first time she had seen it.  It was  stunning, astonishing, seductive, magnificent, intimidating.  It was Loki’s perfect abode.

She went through the chests and closets of his clothes, stopping now and then to stroke fine wool, or velvet, or to simply bury her face in handfuls of fabric until she found, carefully wrapped in silk, what she knew, knowing him, had to be there. 

Nora pulled it up, holding it in front of her in the mirror, wondering when he had made it.  It would be big on her now, but all of the Loki’s magical tailoring adjusted to size so it would be fine.  She rummaged through bottom of the chest and found the shoes and then a wooden jewelry box.

She lay everything out on the bed and went out to get everything else ready.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a bit chilly, but not bad for early November, Nora thought as she lit the last of the candles and looked around the roof, sipping a glass of champagne.  The bouquet of French tulips and Rosa 'Bengale à Fleurs Vertes looked strangely right together.  The woman at the florist had looked askance at her when she had placed the order, but when she picked it up she had nodded.

“That works.  It probably shouldn’t, but it does.  Can I add a photo of it to my look book?”

Nora had them in the scanty bun that sat on the nape of her neck.  She hadn’t cut her hair since April which had given her just enough for it.  

It went better with the dress.

Not able to resist, Nora swished her skirts.  The ‘peacock’ feathers rustled and sighed where the faceted onyx and emerald silk rubbed each other.  It should have been heavy, but something in the internal structure kept it from dragging.  She vaguely recalled commenting on a picture of the original, museum piece gown the summer before last when she and Marissa had been looking at a copy of French Vogue in the breakroom at CDV.  How she thought it was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen.

Eddie had snorted, made a comment about his mother’s clothing, and then started to stutter and choke on a snickerdoodle and had to leave the room.

Everything was ready.  It was time.

“Ok, let’s do this.” 

She turned on the music and picked up the poster board she had prepared.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Loki stalked, furious, forcing his ‘guards’ to keep up with him yet again.

Who, exactly, did that golden-eyed bastard think he was, giving orders to a prince?  A disgraced, nearly disowned prince, but a prince nonetheless.

“Heimdall!” he roared, channelling his inner Thor.

The guardian stood as ever, perfect and unmoving, staring at things only he could see, “Highness.  Thank you for joining me.”

His voice was very soft and thoughtful, and it took the wind out of Loki’s sails.  

“Yes, well.  What?”  He spat the last word, trying to get some of his anger back.  He and Heimdall had always loathed each other.  Their very natures turned each other's stomachs.  It was their weird.  And yet the sentinel had been nothing but respectful since his return.

“Your … companion, Mistress Walsh-”

“No!  I have told you over and over I do not wish for you to spy upon her for me!”  Loki was white-hot now, no, hotter, the kind of hot that felt like freezing.

Heimdall spoke even more softly.  “She requested me to speak to you.”

It was as if he had been struck and everything had caved in. “What?”  He gasped out.

Heimdall's gaze returned to the sky.  “She is standing on the roof of your abode.  A bit ago she held up a sign, asking me to fetch you.  You must have told her in some detail about the palace and the Bifrost.  The sign said she would wait, since she knew it would take you a time to get here.”

Loki sagged, a hand to his chest, “What… what does she look like?”

“Thin, and a bit tired.  But she is dressed festively, in a great gown in your colors.  There are flowers in her hair, green and cream and pale orange.  She is holding a small white stick that she has lit on fire.”

Loki snorted a laugh and then a sob.  “She’s nervous.  Of course.”  

His own hands shook.

She found the dress.

“Now she holds up another sign.  She wishes you a happy birthday, Highness.”   Heimdall’s golden gaze turned to him, “As do I.”

“Yes, thank you,” he waved that away, “and now?”

“Another sign.  It says, ‘I think I remember what you told me these are for, so I am just going to put them on.’  She is opening a wooden box, and it contains-”

Heimdall fell silent for moment.  Then, “It contains bride price necklaces.  Many of them, blue stones for wealth by sea, brown for earth, crystal for air, red for fire.  Amber for fidelity.  Onyx for loyalty.  Pearls for trust.  Copper for friendship.  Iron for love.  She puts them on.

“They are beautifully made.”

“Thank you.”

“Another sign.  ‘I can’t make myself say what I want to through some damned cardboard and markers and another person, but you know.  It’s always yes.’

“Now she is lifting a glass of something pale and saluting the sky, and drinking.  She picked up a bundle of flowers, the same that are in her hair, and is leaning backwards and tossing them off of the roof.  I recognise this ritual.  She is holding another sign, ‘This is for you.’”

He looked at Loki, his head cocked in confusion.

“She knows you cannot hear, nor can I, but she sings.”

Once Loki would have rather been tortured, would have rather fallen between the worlds and burned to cinders than cry in front of his enemy.  Today he did not care.  

Heimdall turned his gaze back to the stars, pretending that he could not see the prince.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, after cleaning up the roof, and carefully tucking her wedding gown away, Nora left a note for Charles and Mrs. Beekman, asking them to continue as ever to hold down the fort and had Nigel drive her to the airport.

“You’re turning into quite the traveler, Ms. Walsh.  I thought you were more of a homebody.”

Nora sat back on the leather seats, idly toying with her necklaces, “This isn’t home.”

The traffic was terrible for a Sunday, and she nearly missed the flight to  Novosibirsk.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the curious - Nora's dress is based on this gown from the House of Dior - http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/works-of-art/C.I.53.40.5a-e/
> 
> And her wedding song is - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CiVDzTT4CbE


	35. A Fish May Love a Bird, But Where Would They Live?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All things must end, including seemingly endless fics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my beloved beta's aunt_deen who is the reason I started reading and then writing fic in the first place so many years ago, and Caffiend, who is the reason I started writing them again, I could not, would not have done it without you.

 

2075 -

He had spent a month doing little but preparing the doorway.

And looking after her.

Now it was finished.  Or at least as finished as he could make it.  He would have taken more time, but listening to her breath rasp and catch and try to not stop he knew that he had to go now or soon it would no longer matter.  When he had brought her home from the hospital where she said she “wouldn’t be caught dead” and laid her in their bed he had seen death clinging to her, teeth deep in her fragile flesh, claws tangled in her thin, white hair.  It rode her towards the grave.

“Charles.  If … I do not believe she will wake before I return, but if she should please tell her that I am … running out for a bite.”

“Of course, sir.”

“And if I am to not return -”

“I will stay until the end, sir.  It would be my greatest honor.”

“Thank you, Charles.”

“Thank you, sir.  In my eons of service I have never taken more pleasure than in my time with you, and of course with -,” the immaculate man in grey, let out a sob.

He patted Charles on the shoulder and then turned to walk through the doorway that hung on the air, and exited his reality.

 

Late 2016 -

Nora knew she had been colder than this.  She just hadn’t actually been that cold at the time.

Then she wondered if her brain was freezing.  Was that possible?  Could her brain ice over while it was still in her skull?  Or her heart?  She knew her lungs hurt like crazy from inhaling air that felt like freezer burn and dust, from all of the superfine snow that blew against her face.

Even the trees of the Siberian forest she trudged through didn’t offer her any protection.  The wind had scoured the lower branches and the undergrowth away.  She stopped and looked up at the white covered trees and the black sky.  It was literally magical and she hated every bit of it.

“Why am I still coming here?” she asked the woods before starting back on her trudge, stupid glowing skull on a stick held high in her aching arm.  “Two years!  No, two years and a month of back and forth back and forth between here and Chicago and all she keeps saying is  ‘ Я научу тебя магии, я научу тебя магии, еще одно поручение.’ 

“At least my Russian’s getting better, right?”  She said to her companion.

The humongous, fluffy cat that walked next to her, paws lightly skimming the top of the snow, just looked at her.  He was impressive, but the feather that he carried him his mouth made him look a little silly.  

Over the last twenty-five months Nora had signed papers, gotten her picture taken, and even attended a few board meetings as the head of Rasmussen Consulting.  She became godmother to Marissa and Dre’s baby Aaron.  She had waited in the hospital in New Zealand with a very loud, very sweet Irishman while Maura had her baby.

The look on Thomas’s face of exhausted delight and joy when he saw them after had made him look for a few minutes like a boy and not Lucifer’s heir apparent.

The bear hug that he had gotten from his friend, who he kept yelling at to get off of him made Nora have to take a minute in the bathroom to calm herself down.  It didn’t do to laugh at the devil, even if he seems to be fond of you.

She had learned a few very nasty fighting moves from Mrs. Beekman.  And how to make lemon sponge.

She had finished the piano lessons that she had never gotten around to completing when Claire was alive.

She came home from a visit to Frederique and found Django lying very still on the pile of bespoke men’s suit trousers that had become his bed.  Later, she bribed the groundskeepers at Queen of Heaven cemetery and buried his ashes with Claire.  Then she went back to the 999 and slept for a day and a half.

But mostly she did chores for Baba Yaga.

She delivered little cakes and boxes of tea to other ancient, bitchy crones around the world.  She scattered corn for B.Y.’s hut and all of its latest brood of cottages.  She fetched magical items like myrrh eggs, a spear dipped in hydra’s blood (which was then used to kill one of the heads of HYDRA - so that was funny), the Lantern of Diogenes (which, when it lit for Nora she was pleased until B.Y. reminded her it was trying to find an honest man.  Finding an honest woman apparently wasn’t so hard).  Something called a Sampo which, even having carried it, she couldn’t tell you what it was what it was or what it did.

Nora gathered rare herbs like raskovnik, moly, and fern flower.  The last of which she was allergic to and gave her a blue rash.  She helped brew magical beer that wouldn’t be ready to drink for a hundred years, and baked pies made with the apples of discord that B.Y. then slipped in place of pies at unsuspecting bakeries because she thought it was funny.

She even helped spin cloth.  Not any special cloth, just normal cloth.  Because that made perfect fucking sense in the twenty-first century.

What she didn’t do was learn any of the magic B.Y. had claimed she would teach her if she came to Russia.  

So this was it.  Nora drew a line in the goddamned snow at flaming skulls on sticks and talking cats the size of a Golden Retriever who hunted down and caught falcons that turned into naked men and…

Yeah.  She was done.  

Two more stomping steps towards where the hut was currently settled down at the far edge of the forest.

Then she stopped and sighed, “I’m not, you know?  I’m not done.  And she knows it.  She fucking knows it.  She knows she can give me the shaft and make me drag my ass from here to Singapore and back every day and twice on Sunday because of----FUCK!!!”

Nora screamed and was promptly covered by snow that fell from the lovely trees above her.  Excellent, because wet was exactly what she wanted to add to the cold, and she was shaking like she had the flu by the time she reached the tree line.

The little hut on chicken legs scratched at the dirt when it saw her.  There was a warm glow in the windows.  B.Y. had made a fire, which wasn’t always the case.  She never complained about the cold until sometime in January when sixteen below was just a normal day, and she laughed at Nora for shivering.  

“You are in love - NO!  You are  _ wedded _ to a Frost Giant and you complain about a little chill in the air?  I bet you don’t complain when he fucks you with that icicle of his, huh, little thief?  Just drink some more tea and stop whining.”

Truck wasn’t there, nor was the scooter that belonged to the current Vasilisa that was living with B.Y.  Which meant Nora would be stuck there for at least another day.

The cat dropped the feather at her feet and retreated back into the woods to hunt.  All of her icy muscles groaned when she bent over to pick it up.  She stuck it and the blazing skull in a snowbank next to the hut’s chicken feet.  There was no way of knowing if they were safe to have inside.  

She had removed the first layer of clothing, letting it fall into slushy/solid pile and had bent over to unlace her boots when a voice spoke,

A deep, soft, so soft, voice, rich with amusement and thick with longing, reached out to her, “I feel as if should say something romantic, but I am far too busy enjoying your posterior to think of a thing.”

Nora shot upright, clutching the outmost sweater she wore.  “I-”

Then long arms held her.  Very, very tight.

 

2075-

If walking the paths between the worlds within a specific reality was cold and empty, the spaces between those realities was hot and filled with noise and monsters.  

Loki walked.

Loki walked looking neither right nor left, trusting his senses to tell him when he had reached his end.

Loki walked, stick in hand, coat unfurled behind him.

He stared at the path where it rose in the distance.  When one of the creatures that lived in the place that was no place tentatively reached out for him, a tail coiling to snag his step, he pulled the blade from his walking stick and cut.  Blood spattered his boots and there was a squeal of outrage, but he did not look and his feet stayed firm.

He did not look or falter when something huge and silent, that smelled of wet rot followed him.

He did not look or falter when ghostly hands, hands that felt like cruelty and desire, caressed his face, his chest, between his legs.

He did not take time to remove his coat as sweat dripped down into his eyes and he was soaked through and his Jotun genetics boiled under their Aesir costume.

He did not look, but perhaps his step hitched just once, when his mother called to him.

He stopped for just the space of a sigh, when he heard Nora singing, “my love is like the wind/wild is the wind.”

Ahead, on the rise, was a glow of green and gold and the smell of a freshly bitten apple.

Loki walked.

 

579692 or so (or early 2016)-

The members of the lamentable cargo cult that Thanos’ daughter - a blood relation, not one of those tormented and doomed children that he picked up like strays and altered with magic, science, and blades to fit his current needs - had established for herself on a damp and desolate former  Svartálfar outpost had sold their lives dear.

Loki picked through the pieces of bodies and rubble, seeking the would-be goddess herself, steam roiling off of his body in cold air.  The pale stone seeped with the endless wet of the planet and the many fluids spilled by the dead.  Outside the soldiers his father had sent with him milled about, nervous.

He had done the killing alone.  As he had gone from one mission to the next at his father’s command he had found himself running ahead more often, using his magic more wildly, taking less care of where his daggers went.  A madness cold as a deep burn was worming into him and he knew that soon - again - no one would be safe.

There was a clanging noise, and he knew that the one he sought was still there.

It was not surprising as Thanos pushed the universe towards an early grave that creatures everywhere would be seeking solace in religion, but this vulgar cathedral, where the faithful came to abase themselves in prayer and vile acts in return for cheap magic tricks that masqueraded as healing, and for a few handfuls of grain, offended his deistic sensibilities.

Worship was for pure faith or it was worthless, Loki sniffed to himself.  He, personally, had never given  _ anything _ to his devotees.  The pleasure of praying was its own reward.

Well, that and the occasional late night visit by a gracious god to an especially attractive and humble acolyte.

He found her under the nave, dragging her useless legs.  Apparently he had broken her spine, though he could not recall doing so, which worried him some.  Fortunately for Loki the wounds were all internal and apart from a small cut on her shoulder she had not bled.

He crouched beside her, his foot on the blade she still held but could not wield, stroking dark hair from her face, “Sidira, Sidira.  A goddess?  Truly?  The Titans are powerful, terrifying, well the true Titans, not mixed blood urchins such as yourself, but they are not gods.”

“Neither are you, Jotnar,” she hissed, spitting blood. 

He wiped the gore from her bottom lip with his thumb and the licked it.  Sidira’s other half was Shi’ar, but she took mostly after her father, with purple flesh and an abnormal obsession with harming other creatures in an attempt to ‘improve’ them.  Thus her favorite offering from her worshippers were their extra children.  

“Oh, but I am.  Right now I am your god, Sidira.  I would suggest you pray to me for my divine mercy.  You would not receive it, but every moment of life is precious and I might let you live long enough to finish your novena.  No?  Very well, but you will serve your god anyway.  You have something I need.”

Loki pulled off his oilcloth cape and gathered the four corners, making a kind of bag, and then pulled one of his daggers, “I should hang you upside down for this, just to ensure I get every drop, but I lack the time you see.”  

The quick slash of his blade was painless and more than she deserved.  The titan blood, Thanos’ own blood, was a purple so dark it was near to black, and reeked of melted iron, like the air within a foundry.   Loki choked on the stink of it, knowing it would make him retch when he heated it in his cauldron back on Asgard.

It would be worth it.  

He heard the einherjar who he both lead and acted as his jailors and slung the sloshing bag over his shoulder, knowing they would lack the bravery to question him about it.

 

2075 elsewhere-

Nora was pregnant again, and she hated it even if it was going quite a bit better than the first time.  

Which was supposed to be the only time.

She sighed and leaned back on the bench in the royal gardens, a hand settling on the rise of her stomach.  This one, it seemed, was taking after her.  A boy, Frigga stated.  The All-Mother always knew.

That was good.  Claire needed another child around that wouldn’t just fall in line with her schemes and games.  All of the other children in the palace, no, on the planet were putty in her daughter’s tiny,  manipulative fingers.  She was currently sitting on the ground a few feet away, her back turned and her arms folded, a huge pout on her face because Nora had not allowed her to banish her cousin Braggi from the gardens.

Braggi, who had his father’s blue eyes and a shockingly easy going nature for an Aesir child, had been willing to be banished to make Claire happy.  Nora had calmly explained, yet again, that Claire didn’t have to get her way all of the time, even if she had somehow convinced everyone that she did, in fact, have to get her way all of the time.

Right now she was getting a timeout.

Nora was about to relent and let her free, when Claire shouted “Daddy,” and scrambled to her feet, running down the path.

Sighing, Nora stood, holding her back, and followed, curious to hear the version of the afternoon’s trouble that Loki would be getting from their born conman child.

 

The garden looked remarkably like the gardens Loki’s mother had kept on Asgard in his own reality.  This timeline must be very, very close to his own.  Unfortunately it was not as close to Idunn’s orchard as he needed it to be.  He silently cursed under his breath, wondering if he was fortunate enough that this version of the Realm Eternal was not so well guarded as the one he came from.

He had just oriented himself to where he needed to go when he heard a cry and then a small creature covered in black hair, pink velvet, and denim, barrelled into his legs, swarming up his body, and attaching itself to his neck by thin, sharply elbowed arms.

“What?”  He grabbed it’s scruff and tried to pull it free,

It jerked back startled, and he found himself looking at-

Oh.  

His heart lurched and ached in his chest.

Pale skin and a pointy nose and a little, spoiled mouth, and eyes so like Nora’s, and wild black hair that she clearly refused to have combed.

“You aren’t my daddy,” she said, wonderful brown eyes narrowing.

“No.  That would be impossible.”

At the same moment she looked over his shoulder he felt a blade prod his kidney, and a voice that was so dear, so familiar, but not quite right, “Once when Loki made a duplicate for us to, um, play with, for some reason it didn’t disparate when it was supposed to.  It decided IT was Loki and tried to kidnap Claire.  You absolutely do not want to know what  _ he  _ did to it after it was captured.”

Carefully setting the child down, Loki lifted his hands, “I am certain I could guess,” he said turning slowly, “and I can assure you I am no clone.”

She was so beautiful, fecund and young and holding a sword with a casual confidence that might under other circumstances arouse him. Lovely, brave, but … lacking a certain wariness in those splendid eyes, a weary amusement in her smile, the thousand little marks that made his Nora who she was.

“No, you aren’t.  Why do I think you are going to be much more trouble?”

He smiled.  “Because you are not a fool?”

 

Late 2016 -

Loki shuddered and gagged as he climbed into the cauldron.  

The heat was unbearable as the thick fluid bubbled and roiled around him, his body already a boiled red.

The titan blood had been acquirable, even if it left him with a few scars to join the fine line left by Kurse’s blade. Until so recently he had been flawless, he thought sadly.  

It was fortunate Thanos’ cared not at all for the children of his body, but also sowed his seed widely.  The herbs were surprisingly basic, as was the spell itself.  Assuming that the magic actually worked, since there was no way to test it.

Sneaking a cauldron large enough to submerge himself in onto the palace and then into his still well watched rooms had been a bit more trouble.  

But he had done it.

Now he just had to cook himself into this savory stew of gore and clots for a full day and a night.  

Hopefully Odin would not come up with a surprise mission for him before he was done.  It would be next to impossible to force himself back into this loathsome mess again.  Though he would.  

Taking in as much air he could, using a seidr he had created to visit Ran at the ocean floor, he sank under the cruor with a horrified, closed lipped moan.  He did not scream, knowing it would simply make the pain worse, and for a time he simply forgot where he was and why as his skin burned away and reknit itself around him over and over again.

There was a faint chiming noise he heard above the heavy roar and slosh of blood in his ears when the day and night were over, and he rose out of the blood to find a deliciously horrified Sif and Fandral staring at him.

“We, um, your father sent us… “ The handsome swordsman tried to speak with his mouth hanging open.

Sif was simply trying not to vomit.

Exhausted, Loki dragged himself out of the cauldron and lay on the ground, panting.  It was everywhere!  Mere water would not rid him of the foulness.

He smiled, his teeth shocking and his grin mad in his red face, “One moment,” he said, weakly finding his feet, and turning to his birthform, his body now a gore-sicle.  He tensed his muscles and then flexed, sending shards of bloody ice in all directions.  

Now his companions just stared, open-mouthed, and Loki remembered that neither of them had ever seen him like this. And he was naked, though they had both seen him in such undress before.   Finally, Fandral closed his mouth and gestured towards him with a pointing finger, “Actually, you look very handsome like that.”

 

2075 -

Loki walked up the path and was a bit surprised to already find himself sitting in the garden, talking to Nora, while Claire played a game that involved her running off, coming back with something - a rock, some leaves, and annoyed kitten - and randomly deciding which of the adults to give it to.  

Currently Nora had a lap full of petals and sticks, while the other Loki was petting a now sleeping tabby and had made a small tower of stones.

Gathering a little power around his fists, he sauntered up, hoping to keep the situation calm.  

“I am not certain if I should say, ‘Ahah!’ and act the jealous spouse in this situation or not.”

Nora raised an eyebrow at him, “No, you really shouldn’t.  Remember last time.”

“And you might wake the kitten,” his doppleganger gestured to the tiny animal.  

He took a seat beside Nora, pulling her to lean against him, lightly rubbing the small of her back.  Even though their son was less of a pre-birth troublemaker than their daughter had been he knew she enjoyed it.  And he enjoyed her pheromones when she was pregnant. “So, you are?”  He wanted this other him gone, Claire down for her nap, and Nora on his cock in the shortest order possible.

From the way Nora’s own hand rested on his thigh, she wanted the same thing.  

He loved it when she was pregnant.  

“From another timeline, it would seem.  Nora, apologies, her highness and I have been comparing notes.  You are a fortunate little bastard, aren’t you?”  He said with a light bitterness.

“I am.  But I would like to believe one makes one’s own fortune.”

“I am sure you would.”

Nora looked between the two of them, rolling her eyes.  “Show him.”

The other Loki carefully moved his hand from the little cat into his pocket, pulling out a small portrait case that he opened and passed to him, “This is my Nora.  As she is now.  We have been together for nearly as long as you two have, a difference of a year or two only.”

The woman in the picture was sitting on the beach in Chicago on a cold day.  She was bundled into a heavy sweater and was laughing.  Her long white hair was in a neat braid, and the frail hand with which she made an obscene gesture at the one taking the image of her was spotted and wrinkled.

“Why have you not given her an apple?”

“What a brilliant question!  I, of course had not considered it for a second!  I’ll just take a quick jaunt back home and do that now.  Ass.”

Loki snorted.  “I take it there is a prohibition to you doing so, and so you have come here to obtain the fruit for her that you cannot get in your own world.”

“Yes.  Let us just say that my AllFather is not as in favor of my marriage, and even less in favor of me.”

“But surely Frigga-”

“She is dead.  More than anything I envy that your Nora, that you,” he nodded his head to her, “and she have met.  For that in my world I would give anything.”

Nora reached out and put her hand on his.

Loki reached around her and gently removed it.  She rolled her eyes, but let him.  When she was pregnant he grew a touch … possessive.

“No one can understand how desperate you must be for an apple, but sadly I do not think I can help you.  I once tricked Idunn out of an apple for my treasure,” he nuzzled Nora’s hair and the other Loki gave him a very strange look, “fearing there might be a problem with our wedding ceremony and she is chary of me now.

“I would give you that one but, alas, Claire fed it to the cat which is why that poor little beast is ten years old and is still teething.”

Nora frowned thoughtfully and the called out, “Claire!”

Their now filthy daughter crawled out from under a flowering bush, a long, slender, very traumatized snake wrapped like a necklace about her throat, “Yes, Mommy?”  She gestured for the visiting Loki to bend his head and she bestowed the viper upon him. 

He gave her a gracious nod.

“AllGrandpa is in the solarium.  Go tell him you want one of the pretty apples to play with, and if he says no I want you to be very, very princess-y,” she put up a finger, “Just.  This.  Once.  And then bring it to me.”

Claire’s face was very solemn, “Is it a game?  Like one of daddy’s games where we can’t tell anyone?”

“Yes.  Now be my good girl.”

“‘Kay, mommy,” she called over her shoulder as she ran off.

“Will that really work?”  the visitor asked.  

Nora nodded, “She fucking owns him.”

 

Late 2016-

“How?”  Her question was nearly lost in a mouthful of hair as Nora clutched Loki like she would be able to keep him if anyone were to come and try to take him from her.  “I thought… I was trying to get Baba Yaga to teach me magic so I could go to you.”

Loki pulled back and stared at her.  “You are always the one coming to me.  It was my turn to be the hero, treasure.”

“Oh god!  Oh god!”  She said it over and over.  Then she stepped back.  He let his arms drop, frowning at her as she backed away.  Nora reached out and put her hand on his chest.  He wore a soft, woven shirt the color of pine needles and smelled the forest she had just left.  Just like the enchanted forest and all of its damned monsters.  “Are you actually here?  Because I have some bad nights, and I’ve turned a lot of corners thinking I saw you and still been alone.”

“I am.  I am here.  I am with you, my little wife,” he stepped closer.  With a modest touch he reached under the neck of her layers of sweaters and shirts and pulled out the beaded necklaces she wore.  “I made these for you, not with magic, knowing they would touch you even when I could not. It was such a perfect wedding, I wish the groom could have attended.”

Nora was suddenly furious.  She knocked the necklaces out of his hand and stormed past him, shedding extra sweaters.  “Why is it that whenever we are reunited it’s in the middle of winter in some snowbound nowhere?  And why is it that you couldn’t be with me for my own good and now suddenly you can?”

She poured a glass of brandy and didn’t offer him one.

As she stared at the fire he dropped into a chair near the fire, smiling at her.  “As to the first thing, I suppose it is an ironic comment on my birthright.  As for the second, we can be together because I boiled myself alive in vat of Titan blood so Thanos cannot see me.  For him, for as long as the spell lasts, I do not exist.”

“You did what?  Are you serious?  That’s,” she sat down on the chair beside his, “that’s horrible.”

“And painful.  I love you very much.”  Then, before she could speak, he reached over and lifted her onto his lap, tangling them together, “I love you, treasure.  I have to be with you.  I … I burned without you, not as I burn with you, but a terrible thing that threatened to leave the sanity I have found with you as little more than ash.”

“It’s good to be needed,” she mumbled into his skin, where her mouth pressed to his neck.

“And yet, I want you as much as I need you.  You are my necessity, which is why I must ask you a terrible thing.”

His long fingers circled the outside of her wool-covered thigh, and his other hand laced into her hair.

Nora thought of several funny things she could say. 

“Anything.”

Loki pulled back and looked her in the eye.  Oh, his eyes!  She had missed that look so badly.

“You mean that, do you not?  You simply say yes without knowing what I need.”

“I trust you.”

He held her hard enough to hurt, and it was only when she started gasping for breath that she pushed him off.  Just a little.

“I need you to leave with me.  Not simply leave here, but leave Midgard.  For two years I have done my father’s work.  He will be furious at my departure, but I can keep us hidden from him.  It is the first thing I taught myself to do, actually, but he will seek us here and I will not ask Thor to lie to him and his plucky group of vigilantes for me.  I want to live with you, as myself, and I cannot do that on Earth.  I know it is a great deal to ask but-”

“When do we leave?  Can I go home and pack?  Send a few emails?”

“I know that you have a whole life here, but I will make you happy if you come and perhaps at times you might come back for a short-” 

He stopped himself.

“You said yes, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, let me have you,” he gasped, softly tumbling them into the small space on the floor before the fire.

“Again, yes.”

Wool makes a high, shrieking noise when it’s pulled apart, and it set Nora’s teeth on edge, but Loki seemed to have left his finesse in space.  Long claws grew from his refined fingers, and he pulled and shredded layer after layer until she was naked beneath him.  

Sweat beaded and rolled off of her from the heat of the fire and just a brush of fear.  Her skin felt more sensitive because of it, and she felt wildly alive.  

His own clothing was long since gone,  Nora could see his shoulder bunching as he restrained himself and instead of plunging his painfully red, no nearly purple, cock into her, he crouched over her and traced patterns over her skin with those claws.  

They left marks in her wintery dry skin, but did not make her bleed.

Around her wrists, like bracelets, and up them, twining like vines.  Across her chest, decorating her breasts, stopping to give a hard pinch to each of her nipples, that made her hips try to arch under his weight.  Down her stomach, forming coils. Then long lines coiled around her legs, down one leg to the sole of her foot, and then back up the other side until he reached the place between them.

He barely scratched along her labia, and then pressed the very tip of a claw onto her clit, and then within, chuckling in pleasure at the wet.  He scraped ever so lightly on her g-spot and she nearly knocked herself out when her body jerked.

“You have never been more prettily adorned,” he smiled, making fists, making himself bleed a little as his claws dug into his palms.  

“Please,” she reached up for him.  She felt every mark as if he was making them afresh over and over again.

“Soon,” he promised, and then followed the exact lines with his tongue, taking infinitely longer to do so.  When ever she grew close he would stop and kiss her mouth until she calmed down.  

“I didn’t miss this,” she moaned out as he resumed his path from the beginning.

“Liar,” he responded when he finally settled with his mouth against her.

“You love it.”

“I do,” he agreed with a sigh, and then was on her, ravenous and artless, now just needing her, “Come for me, treasure.”

“I don’t know if I remember how,” she managed to say before his tongue, his hands, his will overwhelmed her and she stretched and came with a wild cry, her legs locking around him.  When she tried to grab him, to pull him up to her he took her wrists and held them at her sides as he continued.

“Do you really think that would be it?” He lifted his head, his mouth gleaming with her wet. “You remember how things were after we were apart for but forty days?”

“Oh, fuck,” she fell back onto the rug.  “You remember you could kill me?”

“I promise to be very, very careful,” now, he climbed up her body and leaned on one hand, smiling so tenderly at her while two of his fingers slowly insinuated into her, twisting this way and that. “See how gentle I am with you.”

Soon he was so deep she was aching and flooded and he found that spot that he had first shown her in the hunting lodge, “Again.”  He ordered, still smiling sweetly.

And again and again and again and again and again... until Nora lost count and he finally wrapped himself around her from behind, her body limp.  “I’m so numb I don’t know if I will feel-” she said drowsily.  And then, “Holy Fuck!” she screamed as he thrust into her hard enough to push her body across the floor.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” he chuckled in her ear, but his voice was rough and needy.  “Touch yourself,” he again ordered.

Nora wormed her hand between herself and floor. 

Now he was merciless, and rough, and any tenderness was left behind as he fucked and ground, pushing them both hard.  The noises he made were terrifying and Nora loved them.

He bit her shoulder, the exact spot he had in New Orleans what seemed like a thousand years before as he came, and the jolt pushed her down and she came with him, as they destroyed what was left of Baba Yaga’s scratchy rug.

With the last of their energy they wrapped themselves together, which was where the very angry, but also very amused, hag found them the next morning.

“About time, Baby God.  About time.  You owe me a carpet.  Tea?”

 

2075 -

The things were waiting for him outside of the doorway.  

It had been easy to build one for the return journey, with his foreknowledge from the creation of the doorway on his end, and the additional power from the Loki of this world who was eager to see the back of him.  His fierce, less-complicated Nora had kissed Loki’s cheek and dropped the apple into his coat pocket, and Claire (oh little child, oh princess he might have had with his princess, if their lives were different) ran up and hugged his leg hard and then disappeared again into the trees, searching out her grandmother.

Loki’s heart could not bear seeing Frigga, he had to leave.

His other self nodded to him, “I wish you every luck.  For her sake…”

“If not for mine?”

“Exactly.”

The creatures followed him more closely.  They smelled the apple’s power and sweetness.  They wanted it.

 

2018- 

CiCi and AJ’s baby girl had her one mother’s glowing, deep cinnamon skin and the other’s pale grey eyes, which was strange, considering that only one of them was actually genetically related to her.  They were astounded and thrilled

Nora held the baby and looked at her husband, “Did you have something to do with this?”

He shrugged and continued texting his brother.

 

2020-

Nora was on the phone while Loki dueled the Duke and Duchess of White Thrones for the Laughing Flowers, the nectar of which was the only known cure for the Weeping Sickness that was devastating the local system.  They insisted on charging exorbitantly and perversely for it - vast wealth, family heirlooms, first born children, and the like.

Nora had said that was bad.

Now, as he laughingly cut down the Duke and turned his attention to his female clone/consort, Loki  could hear her talking to Marissa. “So when are you due?  Does Aaron understand what it means?  Cool.  I am going to be there, of course!”

Loki sighed, knocking the blade from his opponent's hand.  He hated shopping for baby gifts.  At least now that Thanos’ had been defeated (with a little, not-so-humble and gloating assistance from himself) the Avengers had returned his Midgard privileges.  As long as he “didn’t push it,” in Stark’s elegant terms.

“Send my felicitations as well,” he called out as he performed the coup d’grace.

 

2027 -

The archipelago in the northernmost sea of Alfhame was as beautiful as Loki had told her.  The air was cold, but the water strangely warm from the natural occurrence of magical crystals that grew like coral reefs just beyond the shore.

Crystals that were a major component of the several aphrodisiacs that were the main export for the region.

Loki had offered something - Nora wasn’t sure what, or that she wanted to know - to the governor and they had the entire four islands to themselves.  They swam naked and cooked over a fire while Charles built them a hut.  In spite of the fact that there was a lavish house just a ten minute walk inland.

“I like to pretend I am marooned somewhere with you,” Loki kissed up her calf, “where no one may bother us.”

“Except Charles,” she gasped out, as his fingertips barely tickled between her legs.  

“Charles is never a bother.  Now if you would just turn a little… perfect.”

 

2030-

Mr. Choe’s funeral was attended by over five hundred people.  Loretta asked Nora to sing, and because it was Mr. Choe she chose “Secret Agent Man” by Johnny Rivers.

“That old fool did always love stupid, white people music,” Loretta sniffed.

That night Loki got drunk and he and Nora sat on the roof of the 999 and he told her tales of the deaths of great heroes until dawn.

 

2035-

“I feel ridiculous.”

“You look pretty good in that uniform, handsome.”

“This plan had best work, if I am forcing myself to wear this item.”

“Don’t worry.  Now grab that bag of salt, and remember to address me as ‘Your Most Gracious and Holy Excellency.’”

“You are enjoying this far too much.”

 

2038-

“I can’t believe Maura is a grandmother!”

“I can’t believe no one has killed her mate, yet.”

 

2044-

Nora stared at him.  She hated him so much right now it made her sick.

“Stop it!”

“Stop what?”  He sounded so calm and reasonable.

“I know what you’re doing!  I know!  Don’t fucking humor me, goddamn it!”

He looked at her so softly, “I still do not know what you mean?”

“This!”  She reached out and grabbed a handful of his beautiful hair, thrusting it in his face.  The blackness was now laced through, just here and there with silver.  “And this!”  She lightly traced the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and next to his mouth.  “I know what you’re doing, and I know why.  You have been clever about it, because you always fucking are, doing it slowly, a little here, a little there, so I wouldn’t notice, but I did notice and just, just fucking stop!”

His eyes narrowed, furious, “Very well.”  A golden glow, like smoke and glory, covered him and then diffused leaving him young and perfect and glorious.  

He took her to bed, angry and rough, knowing exactly what she could take, what wouldn’t be too much, what would be enough, and for a little while they both forgot.

 

2074-

All of the care in the Realms can’t keep someone healthy forever.  The human body is born to die.

Nora wasn’t ready, but she was prepared.

Loki was ready because he was preparing.

 

2075-

Loki ran.

They were at his heels, no longer cajoling or put off by fear of his blades.  They were hungry.  They wanted his flesh.  They craved the apple.

He sliced through tentacles and waving orifices that wanted to kiss and invade and rip and rape.

He stomped upon hands that grabbed everywhere and sought to pick his pockets.

He laughed at the freezing creatures and made them whimper and abase themselves and crawl back into the bright noise and terrible heat.

Some were made of fire and he feared them the most.

He ran and the door was before him and they sensed his goal and redoubled their efforts, hoping to do with overwhelming mass what they could not do with skill.

He turned and threw all he had at them and then was through the door in a wave of chaos and screams and grasping.  He fell to the wooden floor of his work room, the door slamming and disappearing, the silence a blessing.

Which was when he realized it was gone.

He felt at his other pockets wildly, as if somehow he could have been mistaken about where it was.  Somehow in the final rush a clever thief had worked its way through the mass and a had taken the apple.

Loki collapsed, his knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around them and rocked himself, “There’s another way, there’s another way, there’s another way.”

His mind burned.

For a full thirty seconds he let himself be a child who was afraid of the dark and then stood, taking off his overcoat and dropping it over the back of a chair.  There was still time.  He would think of something else.

“Charles!”

His perfect manservant did not answer.

Outside of his workroom the building was terribly quiet, and he ran again, this time to the bedroom.  He felt terrible, prickling pain everywhere when he saw the bed was empty.  He touched it and it was cold and for the first time in his life so was he.

So this was cold.  

Stretching out on the bed, his face buried in Nora’s pillow, he remembered that  _ he had _ been cold before.  Eddie had been cold.  Nora had spoken to him on the phone and told him how to care for himself, for his frail, mortal body.

It seemed like days ago for him, but it was a lifetime.  Nora’s lifetime.

He-

Here heard a noise.  He needed to find Charles and to hear about her end.  He did not know if he hoped she had simply not woken or if she had been able to open her eyes one last time.

“Charles?” his voice was weak and he found himself struggling to make his way down the hall towards the kitchen.

“Nope.”

That could not be.

“Why don’t we have any salsa?  Or cookies?  Since when don’t we keep cookies in the house?”

Ah.  He had lost his mind, finally the rest of the way, and he was having a hallucination.  How wonderful.

His hallucination was bent over, rooting around in the giant refrigeration unit, wearing a short dress and no shoes.  The tips of her long, coffee-colored hair brushed the ground.

Her legs were endless and firm fleshed and divine.

She stood and faced him, taking a last bite from an apple core.  “You know, this is pretty good, but I don’t really like fruit that much.  And I am starving.”

“Wha- ho- you.”  He was immobile.

She sashayed to the counter, clearly enjoying having her body back under her control.  Nora had never sashayed in her life before and she made herself laugh doing it.  “Here, Silvertongue,” she held out a small velvet lined wooden box, just the size to hold a piece of fruit.  “It was a gift from the AllFather,” before he could protest she put a finger to his lips, “the new AllFather.”

There was a small note, written in a firm, sure hand -

**Dearest Sister,**

**The Realms are safer with you in them,**

**With Respect,**

**Thor**

**AllFather of the Nine Realms**

**King of Asgard**

 

“So Odin is finally able to retire,” Loki said.  “I wonder what made him change his mind?”

“I would say the panic in his baby brother’s eyes the last time he came to visit us, you ass.”

He turned and looked at her, tears in his eyes, “Oh, I failed you, if it were not for Thor-”

“That is what family is for.  Now we can cry and everything later, but now I want you to take me to bed and fuck me like you can’t break me, because now you can’t,” she pressed herself against his side, up on her toes so she could whisper against his skin.  He could smell how aroused she was.  How wet and fresh and new.

“Why, treasure,” he purred, lifting her into his arms, “that is what you think.”

  
  


“I think we ought to live happily ever after," and she thought he meant it. Sophie knew that living happily ever after with Howl would be a good deal more hair-raising than any storybook made it sound, though she was determined to try. 

"It should be hair-raising," added Howl. 

"And you'll exploit me," Sophie said.

"And then you'll cut up all my suits to teach me.” 

―  [ **Diana Wynne Jones** ](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4260.Diana_Wynne_Jones) ,  [ **Howl's Moving Castle** ](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/2001)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over a year on and I am done!
> 
> Thank you to all my readers for taking the time, and to all of my commentators, whose kindness, enthusiasm, and lavish compliments kept me going when things got rough.
> 
> I still plan on doing a few one shots with these characters at some point. I can't quite make myself let them go. I may even publish the actual Infinity Stone playlist, for those wanting a Guardians of the Galaxy type experience.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who might be curious, the chapters in the first story were based on quotes from children's books, from the second were from lyrics in my writing playlist, and in this story they are based on movie quotes.


End file.
